Pina Coladas And Getting Caught In The Rain
by Chedea
Summary: Bella is an aspiring journalist, stuck editing the personal ads. Edward is a doctor and longtime bachelor. When Edward sends in a personal ad on a whim, Bella reads it and feels drawn to him immediately. Will The Doctor and The Bookworm find love?
1. Cliches and Cliff Diving

**Hello again, faithful readers. I decided to write something lighter than my normal story, something a little lighthearted and fun, rather than the darkness that usually swallows up my stories. Strange for me, I know, but bear with me. It is an all human story, obviously, and it is just a silly little idea that has struck me. Like 'Innocence or Lack Thereof', its going to be a short story. Maybe this is the story you read after IOLT, seeing as that is incredibly sad. This one should lighten you up. I hope you enjoy it. Tell me what you think!**

**your humble author**

"Frank, you cannot be serious. I am a reporter, a journalist, I report the _news_. This," I said, holding up the latest edition of what my editor in his endless state of being convoluted thought I would be working on, "is not the news."

"Maybe not, but I need a copy editor for this section, and you are the only person who does not currently have a story to work on or something they are already writing. You are the staff member I have free. Not to mention I know what I perfectionist you are. Alice will be on sabbatical for six months and I need someone over whose shoulder I don't find myself needing to look constantly."

Frank stared at me. He knew I hated this. Alice, my best friend, had loved being copy editor for this section. The idea of looking this over every day gave her a tiny thrill; she loved the idea that what she was doing might be helping people find love. She thought that everyone should be as happy as she and Jasper were, married for two years, together for almost eight, just about to give birth to her first child. She wanted to help people find that happiness.

That's right; Alice was the copy editor for the personal ads.

"I'm begging you Frank, anything but this. I will work wedding announcements; I will work obits, but please don't make me do this." I was begging now.

"Bella, Alice made me promise to have you work on this when she was on sabbatical. You know how she is, and pregnant to boot. She wouldn't take no for an answer. She threatened bodily harm, and in her condition I thought she was likely to kill me and go into labor doing it. I had to say yes. And besides that, everything I said was true, you _are_ a perfectionist. You can't hand in an assignment without needing to proofread it seventeen times before you give it to me. And because of that, I know you can handle being the copy editor for this. If you do this well, when Alice comes back, I might bump you up to some higher priority stories. If you can prove to me you are responsible enough to handle them," he bribed. I frowned and furrowed my brow. It wasn't fair, him using the idea of my getting more exciting stories to pursue against me. He knew I had been dying to get some real, important journalism in. But I sighed. If at the end of six months, I could get better stories and it would make Alice happy and less likely to throw a fit at me like she had been known to do, I would be the copy editor for the stupid personal ads, no matter how ridiculous it seemed to me.

I sighed, but agreed. Frank smiled at me and I glowered back but said nothing else before shuffling off unhappily to Alice's office. That was one perk of this new assignment; I was going to get my own office. It was the _only_ perk. There was a letter addressed to me on the desk. When I opened the envelope, it was from Alice, explaining the job to me. She had today's copy already set up, the copy for the next day's run would be brought to me at noon every day for me to look over and approve, at which point I would pass it on to my immediate superior, the editor for the entire classifieds section to be run. All I had to do was make sure all the p's and q's were straight; no one's grammar was too atrocious to be put into the paper.

Basically, Alice spelled it out to be a job that played on my almost unhealthy attention to detail and obsession with perfect grammar and spelling. Alice knew me too well.

It was only ten in the morning when I made it to Alice's former office, and so I knew I had about two hours before my first assignment arrived. I decided in that time to clean Alice's office for her. She was not what I would call tidy. Her desk had previous copies of her work spread over it, letters, pens, paperclips, highlighters, pictures, notes about successful matches made through the personal ads. It took me the whole two hours to organize her office, but I successfully filed away every last paper and put each and every paperclip and staple where it belonged.

Just as I was done organizing, a knock came to the door of the office. I called for whoever it was to come in, and a slight female figure entered holding a stack of papers.

"Hi, you must be Bella," the woman said, laying down the papers on the desk before me. "I'm Angela. This is the copy for tomorrow's paper. If anything needs to be changed, just red pen it and we can fix all your corrections in no time. Is there anything else you need?"

"I would kill for a cup of coffee," I said with a joking smile. Angela nodded.

"Cream, sugar?" she asked. I looked at her questioningly.

"I was joking, Angela," I assured her. She laughed a little.

"Did Alice not tell you? I was her assistant, which means that now I'm yours until she comes back. So if you need a coffee, I can get you one. If you need help finding something, I could help you, although it looks like you did a very thorough job of reorganizing her office, so I'm not sure you'll need help on that front. But anything you need, Bella, I can help you."

"Why did Alice need an assistant?" I inquired. She smiled and shrugged.

"She convinced Frank that I was necessary. You know what a pushover Frank can be, especially when Alice is trying to get her way. She saved my job though, I was the assistant to a copy editor for the lifestyle section, but that editor left the paper, and when her replacement showed up, he told Frank he didn't need me. I was going to be fired. But Alice and I were friends, and she told Frank she was more than in need of an assistant. After some wheedling, Frank agreed to keep me on as Alice's assistant. She has even gotten me a raise in the last year."

"You have to love Alice, she can be a force of nature when she wants something," I agreed. She smiled.

"But, I will leave you to your work. Alice told me you are meticulous and will probably take your time reviewing things. Would you like a bagel or a muffin with your coffee, Bella?"

I laughed.

"If you got me a coffee with milk and two sugars and a blueberry muffin, I would be eternally grateful," I told her. She smiled, nodded and then left the room. Fifteen minutes later she returned with exactly what I asked her for and said to just ask if I needed anything at all.

As I sipped on my coffee, perfectly mixed with credit to Angela, I began to look over the copy for the personals that were to run the next day. Most of them were from men and women from their late forties to their early sixties. Every once in a while was an ad from a man or woman in their early thirties, but those were rare. And to the credit of the people who set up the personals and the people who wrote them before they were given to the people who now worked directly beneath me they werent written all too awfully. It took me about two hours to look through the pages of copy given to me, which would turn into about four pages of personals in the classifieds section. On Sundays it would jump to about eight pages, which would mean a little more work for me.

I red penned every page, making the corrections necessary to perfect this set of copy. At three, I called for Angela and returned the copy to her. She looked at the papers I handed her, which were riddled with red marks, more than Alice's usually were I'm sure and then back at me.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. She told me you were a perfectionist," Angela said flipping through the pages. She smiled up at me.

"I'll have this back to you within the hour," she assured me. I nodded and went back to my office to eat my muffin.

Angela was incredibly punctual, and almost exactly an hour later she returned the copy to me with every correction I had made fixed. She even returned the original copy with the new copy so I could compare them. There was a reason Alice had given her a raise―she was good. With everything I needed fixed having been done; I left the office and went directly to the office of my immediate superior.

I knocked on the door once before opening the door and coughing loudly. The editor for the classifieds looked up and beamed at me.

"Alice warned me you would be taking her place while she was away."

"I sure am, Emmett. Now I have the copy for the personal ads, would you like me to leave it on your desk?" I asked. He nodded.

"Sit down, stay a while, Bella. I haven't talked to you since Rosalie hosted Alice's baby shower a few months ago. How have you been?"

"I've been making it, you? How is Rosalie?" I asked.

"Oh we have been just fine; now that Alice is having a baby she has been seriously considering getting pregnant, too. I've always seen myself as a father; I could handle some rug rats."

I smiled. Emmett was a huge man, tall and solid and imposing if you didn't know he was really just a big teddy bear. He would be an excellent father.

"But what about you, what does 'I've been making it' mean? Why don't you come out with us anymore?"

"Emmett, one experience with you four, downing too many shots of tequila and losing a high heel after table dancing was more than enough for me."

Emmett's booming laughter filled his small office. I smiled along with him but mentally I shuddered. Emmett, Rosalie, Alice and Jasper had convinced me to come out to a bar with them one Friday night, sighting my need to 'relax and have a little fun'. The night had ended with me spraining my ankle when my heel broke while I was doing a rather elaborate table dance to White Snake's 'sweet cherry pie'. Counting that and the debilitating hangover the next day, I vowed that tequila would never again enter my body, especially not in the form of the six shots I had taken that night.

"That is fair. But I don't think there will be much of that in the near future, Bella. Alice just having had a baby and Rosalie looking to get pregnant, big nights out drinking aren't really in the cards."

I nodded.

"If something tamer, like dinner, is involved, I will be more than happy to come see you all," I assured him. He laughed again and nodded. Before he could say anything else his phone rang. He held up a hand for me to wait and then picked it up. He had a short conversation with someone and then hung up the phone.

"Well, as much as I love to catch up with you, that was _my_ boss. I'm going to have to go collect the other copy from the other editors. But I am going to talk to Rosalie about having you over for dinner. I'll talk to you soon, alright?"

"Sounds delightful," I said sardonically. As I left the room, I heard his laughter follow me out.

* * *

I had been in personals for a month, and every day of work seemed to be less interesting than the last. It had gotten so boring that I almost wanted to cry. I had reworked the layout; I had gotten a head start on the Sunday edition so we wouldn't be backed up and scrambling to finish on time. I had even taken on minor editorial work from other sections to fill my time. But the time before and after I finished my work were miserably dull. I had nothing to do.

Angela joked with me that I finished going over the copy in less time than Alice had but I always had more corrections than Alice did. I couldn't imagine what she must have been doing to fill her time with this copy that I wasn't already doing.

I didn't want to bother Alice with my queries. She had given birth to her daughter, Lillian, no more than a week after I became her temporary replacement. I wanted to give her a reprieve from working, not bombard her with it when she should have been bonding with her baby. But I had to ask someone. Emmett was the editor for all of classifieds so he had plenty of work to do, and all the other sections did stories that required more actual doing than mine. Other than the office and oh so helpful assistant Angela, I couldn't find a positive to the job I had taken on. Some people would have been happy to not have to do work and have the opportunity to goof off all day long. I on the other hand hated having time when I was supposed to be working that I had to fill with meaningless drivel instead of something to justify the pay I was earning. I knew I was a rare commodity, and yet I was still desperate to fill my time.

And so on one particularly uneventful Monday, the Sunday rush too far away to start preparing for, the work for the day already have been done and still hours before deadline, I called Alice on her home phone. When she picked up her voice was soft, but she sounded happy.

"Hi Bella, I'm so glad you called. I know you said you wanted to give me some time to recover, and believe me I appreciate it. But I think if you wanted to come over and see Lillian now, you could. We are both okay to have visitors," she assured me. I had gone to see Alice in the hospital, of course, because she was my best friend and it was duty to be there for her. But after that I promised her I would let her have some time to recover from having her daughter and let her and Jasper have some time together as a new family. She had been grateful, and I told her to call me whenever she thought she was ready to have anyone over.

"Are you sure, Alice? I don't want to come over there if you aren't ready to see people," I said. I heard her laugh softly.

"I absolutely want you to come over. In fact, you should come over tonight after work. I will make Jasper make us dinner and we can catch up. I want to hear how work is going," she told me.

"That is actually one of the things I was calling you about, Alice. I just don't know―"

"Bella, oh I'm so sorry, but Lily is crying. Can we talk about this when you come over tonight, around seven?"

"Sure, no problem, Alice," I said, defeated. She thanked me and quickly hung up to go see to her baby and I sighed. I wasted the rest of the day taking work from Emmett's desk and going over it for him so I could at least pass the time in something other than utter boredom. When the day was over and I could finally go home, I said goodbye to Angela, gathered my things and dropped off Emmett's work in his office. He was on the phone with his wife and so he merely mouthed 'thank you' and I smiled and left.

I went home, changed out of my work clothes, read a little in my current book and then went over to Alice's at seven as I said I would. She greeted me with smiles, as did Jasper. Lillian was asleep in her basinet, but she was just as adorable as I remembered her being. Alice said she would be up in about a half an hour to eat, but Jasper had made us dinner—homemade macaroni and cheese with garlic bread and for me a large glass of red wine. We ate and caught up. I asked her about the baby, which she told me all sorts of stories of the terrifying first days of parenthood. She loved the baby, and so did Jasper. They were happy.

Almost on cue Lily began to cry from the other room and Jasper went to get her so Alice didn't have to get up. She looked a little tired, but otherwise outrageously fantastic to have just had a baby three weeks prior. He put the baby in her arms and she began to breast feed her unabashedly, saying it was 'nothing either of you haven't seen before'. We all laughed.

"So how is having my old job?" she asked excitedly, as though she expected me to gush over it. I smiled politely.

"To be honest, Alice, I find myself bored throughout the day. There isn't enough to do. I get done with the copy in a few hours and after that I don't have anything else to do. I've cleaned your office; I even do some of Emmett's work. I just don't see how you could possibly fill all your time with that," I confessed. Alice smiled a knowing smile like she had some information that I didn't.

"Do you actually read them, Bella?"

"Of course I read them."

"I mean do you pay attention to what they say, to who these people are? They are looking for love in one of the most admittedly cliché ways possible. But they put themselves out there. You have to admire courage like that. But if you are still unhappy with it, try to shake things up, make it different. If that doesn't work, well, it's only a few more months and maybe you could spend your extra time giving yourself a manicure or planning a redecoration of your apartment."

I spent another hour with Alice, Jasper and Lillian before I decided to head out for the night. I spent a good long time that night and the day after trying to think of some way to make things different in the personals that would still get across what was necessary and make it a little more interesting.

When Angela brought in the next day's copy for me, I stopped her before she left.

"Angela, I'm trying to figure something out, and you have worked in this section long enough to tell me if this is a good or a bad idea. I was thinking, to shake things up a little, give it some new life and make it a little less cliché, perhaps on Sundays, when we have the most room for personals, we could do it a little differently than we used to. Instead of hundreds of tiny ads, perhaps there could be a full blown profile, like they have on the dating websites. That way each person could give a little more information on themselves than just their age and what they look like and what they want. It would be a way to make each person a little more interesting, and if we split it twelve ads a page instead of thirty or forty, we would still have the money to run them and it would just be…something different."

Angela looked at me for a good long moment without saying anything, her expression unchanging.

"Forget it," I said eventually, "it was a stupid idea."

"No! Oh, no, Bella, I think it is a fantastic idea! We should run something about that in tomorrow's personals that from now on Sundays will be structured differently. I think it is a fantastic idea. So many people are using dating websites, if we bring in an element of that, people might be more likely to go through us and place an ad in the paper instead. Run it by Frank of course, but I think it's a fantastic idea."

I smiled and she smiled back, closing the door behind herself as she left the office. I called Frank as soon as she was gone, and much to my surprise, he agreed with Angela. He thought it was a great idea and would make things different enough to maybe attract more people to place ads. I was glad that what I had come up with wasn't a flop at least in the eyes of the paper. And so when I went over the copy, I made a note to create an announcement about the new Sunday format in the final copy. Angela returned it to me within the hour as she always did.

The next day, we were flooded with responses. People loved the idea, and had begun sending in their readymade profiles. By the time Saturday morning came around we had hundreds, far more than we could possibly print. I came in early because it was going to be my job to decide whose ads went in and whose we were going to have to print the following week or save for another time. I spent hours sifting through the ads, and trying to do what Alice said and 'really read them'. I had gone through every new batch each day we got them, along with my usual copy work, and had found the ones I liked the most, the ones that seemed the most honest, and set them aside to a 'maybe' pile so I could look at them again today. I had fifty four in my 'maybe' pile and another seventy that we had gotten by the time I got to the office that morning. We could run about ninety ads, leaving room for the editor's note I wanted to include on the top about the response to the new Sunday layout and anyone whose ad hadn't made it to this week's paper.

I looked through the new ads first that morning and found another forty three I liked and added to my 'maybe' pile. I pared it down to exactly ninety when Angela knocked on my office door. It was about eleven in the morning, and I hadn't even begun to look them over or think about the order and layout they were going to go in.

"Bella, I have six more ads that got sent in this morning for the Sunday run. Do you want to look at them or should I just save them for next week?" she asked. I thought about it and then held out my hand. I might as well just look at them. She put them in my hand and then told me to call if I needed anything, like she always did.

The first five ads were nothing special, nothing I wanted to change my original plans for. More of the same—late forties to early sixties, same general hobbies with some random fact buried in there about them to make them different.

However, when I picked up the last ad, I knew almost immediately that my layout was going to be changed.

_Since we are not supposed to give our real names, I will call myself The Doctor. With that all settled, I have to be honest and say I do not know why I am doing this. I do not date as often as my mother thinks a 'young, successful man' is supposed to, and to appease her with some form of effort, I am doing this. It costs less than joining a dating website but doesn't involve me going to a bar, so it is, in a word, perfect. But I am supposed to describe myself. I am about six feet tall; with green eyes and copper colored hair that does not ever do what I want it to, no matter how much I will it to. I am thirty one years old. I am a doctor working at a local hospital in the Children's Ward. I do not like pi__ñ__a coladas or getting caught in the rain, but I do love going to the symphony, cooking and eating fine Italian food or just ordering a pizza and watching a movie. I'm a romantic in the most traditional sense of the word and I pride myself on being a gentleman. I would love to find a woman who is up for an adventure, whether that is cliff diving or just trying something new in the kitchen. I like a woman who is smart, who loves to laugh and doesn't take herself too seriously. If you think you are that woman, please, feel free to respond and make me, and my mother, very happy._

I found myself laughing throughout his ad, and smiling when he mentioned being a gentleman. Too few men were these days, in my opinion. I wasn't looking for a monk or someone who would treat me like a porcelain doll, but it would be nice to find someone to open doors and pull out chairs. I almost didn't want to run the ad, but knew that I couldn't possibly pass up putting this into the paper, with all the responses it would receive.

So I withdrew one of my previous choices and put this man's ad into the layout and then proceeded to edit them all for various mistakes or layout changes. The Doctor's was the only one I did not need to touch. I gave the finished to copy to Emmett in time for deadline and then I went home for the night, tired, but happy to have actually have done work. I had decided, for once in my career, to take a day off. I had gotten done the copy for Monday's run so I wasn't worried about the ads that were going to need to be done the next day, and so at the end of a very long week, I took Sunday off, slept in, and relaxed all day. It was nice, after a week so filled with work, for once, to have some time off. I had become unaccustomed to the demand of a job where I actually had things to do all day long. I had to do the day's copy edits every day, but before and after I was finished with that, I would look through the Sunday layout ads and put them into my 'maybe' pile. It had been a long, exhausting, but fulfilling week.

On Monday I walked into my office, refreshed and ready to start Tuesday's copy to find both Emmett and Frank sitting there.

I looked at them both inquisitively.

"Can I help you?" I asked nervously.

"Bella, do you know how many responses we have gotten to your Sunday personals?" Frank asked me. I shook my head. I had only just gotten in.

"One hundred and twenty," Emmett answered.

"But it was just _yesterday_," I said. But Frank handed me a large manila folder filled with responses to the ads put in yesterday. "That is not including the other ads that have been placed for next Sunday, or the regular personals that get sent in every day. The response to this idea has been tremendous. If it remains so impressive, we may have to expand personals on Sundays to a bigger section."

I gaped at him.

"You can't be serious! You want to expand it?"

"Well think about it, Bella. You are going to need room to print the new ads every Sunday, but also you will need room to print the responses to the ads posted the Sunday before. It only makes sense. See how it goes this Sunday, and if you do not have enough room, we will see what we can do about expanding your section."

"Emmett, are you on board with this?" I asked.

"Of course I am. We haven't had something to get such a tremendous response outside editorials or nasty letters in a very long time, not since I have worked here. If you are able to come up with something to spice up the classifieds section, be my guest."

I smiled. I could not believe this was happening. This had been just a random idea of mine, and it had become something far more than I thought it would be. As soon as they both left my office with words of congratulations, I called Alice. She commented on the new layout and how much she liked it and congratulated me. I made a promise to see her again soon, told her to give my love to Jasper and Lillian.

The next day I got another eighty responses to the ads placed on Sunday, along with every other day's regular ads and another fifty ads for this upcoming Sunday. The next day was almost exactly the same. I called Frank and Emmett and they agreed to look over the layout of classifieds to find room for the responses. By the end of the day, Frank called me back and said they couldn't push anything out of classifieds to make room. They were just going to expand it for me. We were getting double the space for our Sunday layout. I almost fainted.

It gave me a lot more room to look into the ads and responses, so I took every ad and looked them over again, knowing I had enough room for so much more than I originally planned. I went through the new ads we had and put some in the maybe pile, and then I went through the responses we had received so far. There were plenty of replies for the other people who had sent theirs in, but a surprising percentage, almost thirty percent when I counted them up, were for The Doctor. I was not surprised. I weeded through them all, and the more I read, the more disheartened I felt. Somehow, I felt a strange tugging that made _me_ want to reply.

And at first, when the thought occurred to me, I cast it off as ridiculous. But as I read through ads from women who couldn't spell properly and didn't know the difference between 'your' and 'you're', I felt the tug getting stronger. It didn't make any sense. I had never met this man, I had never seen him, I knew very little about him, other than his being a doctor and apparently having some varied interests. And still I argued with myself about writing up a stupid ad; what would I say anyway? I told myself to sleep on it.

The next morning though, I knew what my answer would be. I had to do it. I didn't want to be thinking what if should I decide not to. So I sat down at my computer to write my own response to The Doctor.

_In response to The Doctor—I argued with myself about replying to you, but in the end I could not help myself. I will call myself The Bookworm. I am about five foot six, with dark brown curly hair and brown eyes. I am twenty five years old. I agree with you about pi__ñ__a coladas and other clichés. I have never been to a symphony, but I love to cook, Italian and otherwise, and I cannot argue with pizza and a movie. I work at a newspaper and find it very interesting that you work with children. I love to read, drink good wine and swim when I can find the spare time. To be honest with you, as you have been so gracious as to be honest with us, I haven't dated in a while. The idea of your being a gentleman is truly what drew me to your ad, as well as your varied amount of hobbies or interests. I think a true gentleman is hard to come by. Although I should warn you, were we to go cliff diving I am sure it would end in some catastrophe for me, as I am incredibly accident prone. You seem a truly interesting person, and I think even if I am not your perfect woman, I would very much enjoy getting to know you so we could be friends if nothing else. If you are interested, please respond._

I looked at my handiwork, and of course went over it several times before saving it and then printing it and adding it to my pile of responses. I argued with myself that putting myself out in this response would do two things. The first of course would be giving me peace of mind. I had done what I dreamt of doing—I took a leap, took a risk. I would never sit and think to myself how I had wished I had sent in a damn response to the personal ad of some anonymous doctor. The second was that it made it easier for me to be impartial now. I knew that I had thrown myself into the ring along with whomever else, these other hopefuls that had gotten their attention caught just as I had. I wouldn't have to hate them if I knew that I had a chance just like they did.

So I did the regular copy every day until Saturday night and I picked what new Sunday ads to print, as well as the responses to run. It was the first sixteen page personals spread ever and I was simultaneously ecstatic and terrified. I had given Angela back my response along with the others in the middle of the pile hoping she wouldn't notice it or know it was me. I prayed no one knew it was me. If they thought that I was using this job to get myself a date I would never live down the shame.

But Angela didn't say anything when she flipped through the copy, nor did she say anything when she came back from dropping it off to Emmett. I was safe.

The next day I looked through the paper and admired the work I and the rest of the people who worked in personals had put through. I admired my new idea. And I found my response, along with the four others I had allowed myself to put into the layout. I reread what I wrote and thought for a moment that it sounded stupid. But in reality, there was nothing wrong with it, I was just being overly critical now that other people would be able to read it. I just had to remind myself that no one knew it was me.

Now, I told myself, I just had to wait to see if The Doctor would respond, and to whom.

As it turned out, I didn't have to wait long.

**Silly, I know. Hope you liked it :)**

**(normal disclaimer applies, no copyright infringement is intended, I'm not stealing shit, just messing with it for a while, you know, the usual)**


	2. First Dates and Mistakes

1By Tuesday we were yet again flooded with our regular personal ads. In addition to our usual work, we received dozens of Sunday layout ads, responses to the ones posted the week before, and even some responses to responses.

I did my normal sorting tasks before and after I went over the day's regular copy. That seemed tedious work when I was able to read so much more in depth about other people who were looking for love through our new Sunday's personals process. People had gotten the idea and were being far more creative with their ads now that a few weeks had gone by. It was as though they had gotten some silent permission through other people's ads to reveal things about themselves. One man wrote that after two divorces and one custody battle, he really just wanted a nice woman that he could spend time with sans the pressure of a classic relationship.

He got the second largest number of responses yet.

The first was still, by far, The Doctor.

Though his ad had been run almost two weeks prior, women were still sending in responses. And some of them I knew I was going to have to run, even if they made me jealous—women who could boast spelunking trips in South America, women who were accomplished in ways I didn't even know you could be at the age of twenty two, fresh out of college. When I was twenty two, I was still living with a loser of an ex-boyfriend and freelancing for crappy pay that didn't cover any of my medical visits the few months I got sick. I got a better job, a better apartment, health insurance and I lost the boyfriend. Since then I had been on my own, scraping and clawing and climbing to be where I was, which was the copy editor of a newly successful personals section in the paper. It wasn't what I wanted, it wasn't high priority journalism. But I was on my way. I was putting in my time.

So sifting through these ads was just part of it, even if reading the ones from more accomplished, more interesting women made me cringe with jealousy.

And every day while I read the new ads and the responses from the day before, I waited. Had The Doctor given up his search through the ads, or had he simply not found anyone worth responding to? I felt a sting when I thought that. But I shielded myself from the brunt of that sting by reminding myself it was something I had done on a whim, on nothing more than a passing fancy. I didn't mean it, didn't need it. This was pure fun for me, purely some entertainment. I didn't need him to respond.

That did not keep me from wanting it, though.

Days passed and I filled them with work, I filled them with reading and knowing and understanding more and more these people, lonely people, who just wanted companionship. I filled the time with Alice, visiting her and her husband and daughter. I filled them with Emmett and Rosalie who finally made good on Emmett's offer to invite me over for dinner.

And with each passing day, my fantasy of some passion filled romance between this Doctor and me, between this man who seemed fascinating in the most unassuming way and me the least fascinating person possible in the most obvious way faded. It was unrealistic. I should have known better.

I was finishing the layout for Sunday's ads and responses Saturday morning, about to put the finishing touches on it before giving it over to Emmett, when Angela knocked on my door, and like Saturdays past, delivered a last minute batch. I rolled my eyes, said something about procrastination and sending things in late. Angela laughed as I muttered under my breath.

I flipped through them in a cursory manner, not really hoping that he had sent in a response, but thinking that maybe he might have. There were eight new ads, and six responses.

His was the fifth of the six responses.

_This is The Doctor again. I must admit, I was startled by the number of replies to my ad, I had not expected such a response. To each of the women interested, thank you for your notice. However, there was one ad that drew my attention most of all, and that was from The Bookworm. Obviously I cannot tell if you are my 'perfect woman', but you sound captivating enough in your own right. I have not dated in some time either, and so beyond the fact that I find myself strangely drawn to your description of yourself as accident prone, your interest in fine wine, and what seems to be your laid-back personality—all of which are interesting enough to peak my attentions—I find myself attracted to the idea of a woman that is willing to stumble through dating with me and be able to laugh when things are awkward or uncertain. So if you find yourself interested in meeting me, in fumbling through something of a first date, I will be at Angelo's on Main Street at seven p.m. this Sunday. I will be wearing a black button down shirt and will have a single rose. I will be waiting for you there. If you do not come I will not be offended, but I sincerely hope that you will._

I read the response and then reread it. I felt a flutter of excitement, then nervousness, then denial, then hope and a butterfly feeling in my stomach. How could this be? The women he had gotten responses from were far more accomplished, with more interesting hobbies, more exciting lives than mine. How was it that he chose me, that he wanted me? It didn't make any sense, and yet, there it was, staring me in the face, right there on my desk.

I read it one more time, and laughed to myself about fumbling through dating. I was sure there would be fumbling, both literal and figurative. I hadn't been kidding about being accident prone. I was the least graceful person I had ever encountered in my life. A flat stable surface held as much danger for me as black ice did for most other people. But regardless of my lack of grace, there was also my lack of experience in dating. Sure I had dated once, a live in boyfriend from years ago that I slept with only twice and hadn't even really loved. He was the first and only, a disaster if there ever was one and it had ended years ago. I hadn't even been remotely interested in another man since then. Which was why I was so surprised when I felt the sudden and unmistakable pull toward this man, this Doctor. And he, for some reason, felt a pull to me. I didn't understand it.

But I needed to know who and what he was. And I needed to know what was it about him that made my stomach bunch up when I read that he was interested in me, the most plain Jane woman in the entire world.

I argued with myself that maybe he was just insane, unattractive and figured the woman who seemed the most homely would be the most likely not to get up and leave. Perhaps he was not nearly as interesting as he made himself out to be and wanted only to find a woman as seemingly uninteresting as he actually was.

And yet no matter how much I told myself that he was probably awful, probably not what he said he was, there was another tug, another moment where I couldn't help but feel this strange something in the pit of my stomach. And that something was telling me that he was everything he said, everything I dreamed he would be and probably more.

Angela knocked on my door again after some time, I wasn't sure how long, asking if the layout was done and could be sent to Emmett. I quickly shuffled the response from The Doctor into the pile of copies, replacing a different response with his. I put the ads and responses into something like the coherent order they were meant to be in and handed them over. She took the folder from my hand and smiled at me. I smiled back and felt it falter as she looked at me a moment longer than I thought she should have just picking up the copy.

But as she left I ignored the strange feeling she was giving me when I realized that The Doctor had mentioned meeting Sunday night, this Sunday night.

That meant tomorrow.

My stomach bottomed out.

"Bella, are you alright?" Angela asked. I nodded, my eyes wide.

"I just feel a little funny. It'll pass," I said quietly.

I smiled halfheartedly, trying to pull off not feeling well as she walked out of the office. I knew I was an awful liar, and if I hadn't been so suddenly filled with terror and anticipation making my stomach churn I would not have been able to look appropriately ill.

The next day dragged on and on like it would never end. I was scared out of my mind, but also dying with anticipation for the night to come. I couldn't stand it. I was so excited, and scared and a million other things. I finished Monday's copy in record time. When the end of the day came I couldn't get out of the building fast enough.

I got home at five and sighed. I wasn't the kind of woman to take hours and hours to get herself ready to go out. But…it had been so long since I had gone out with anyone anywhere that I wasn't really sure what I should be doing, besides the fact that I was nowhere near prepared for this. I thought there would be correspondence back and forth between us before we met up in person, but here he was, asking me to meet him for dinner already. My heart was pounding in my chest at the mere thought.

I immediately jumped into the shower and washed myself thoroughly. Then I stood in my bathrobe, staring into my closet, realizing that I had nothing to wear on a date. I had work clothes, I had casual clothes, I had pajamas. I had nothing even remotely date-like. I was going to have to do something that I dreaded almost more than I was dreading this date. I took a deep breath.

I picked up the phone and dialed Alice. She answered after the third ring and I was simultaneously thankful and terrified.

"Hi, Bella, how are you?" she asked calmly. The baby must have been asleep.

"I'm frantic, Alice. I need your help. Your…fashion help," I admitted. I heard Alice's shocked intake of breath.

"Really?" she asked excitedly.

I muttered a response that sounded something like yes.

"For what, what am I dressing you for?" she inquired. I cringed at her question.

I couldn't decide what I hated more – telling Alice I needed help finding something to wear or telling her the reason I needed help was because I had a date. She was likely to go completely insane with the thought of me dating. She had been on my case about it for years. Ever since Jake and I ended, she had been trying to set me up with someone so I could find the kind of love she believed everyone deserved. I didn't disagree with her; I just thought that some people found it and other people didn't. She was one of those people who found it; I was one of the people who didn't. She didn't agree with me, but I told her to stop trying to set me up with her friends after a little while. After the pathetic attempts at gentlemanly behavior or anything resembling etiquette or conversation, I was done trying for a while – a long while as it turned out.

"I have a date," I whispered.

There was a scream on the other end of the line followed by the distinct sound of a baby's cry. Alice said something to someone who was not me, and then the baby stopped crying. I could only assume that Jasper was there.

"Bella, don't you worry. Jasper is going to take care of Lily, and I will be over in ten minutes to fix you up."

I didn't have the chance to say anything before she hung up on me.

She was a woman of her word and nothing if not punctual. She was knocking on my door and letting herself into the apartment in ten minutes flat.

"Now, while I am not happy that you didn't tell me about this until just now, I am willing to forgo being angry for the moment and simply help you so you can tell me all about it while I pick something out for you to wear," she fired at me. I looked at her, stunned as she brushed past me to my closet.

As she went through all the things in my closet she asked me routine questions: what time was I meeting him, where, what his name was, where we had met.

The first two I could answer, but the third I had no idea, and the fourth I was far too embarrassed to mention. But I knew I wasn't nearly a good enough liar to pull anything else off but the truth. She would spot my lie immediately and it would only make her mad and more curious about what I was hiding. So I took a deep breath and let it out in one long sigh.

And then I told her the truth.

"Oh Bella, I knew it! I knew you were going to find someone when you took over my job; it's why I insisted you replace me while I'm on leave. Are you excited?" she asked, practically gushing. I tried to smile and act as excited as she was.

"I'm nervous, does that count?" I asked with a shrug. She laughed and turned back to my closet.

In true Alice form, she turned what I thought was a hopeless wardrobe, and in her opinion was severely lacking anything useful, into something lovely. She paired a khaki shirt I had with a navy blue, v-neck sweater and a pair of navy flats, added in some blue jewelry and a little bit of mascara (no matter what I did to resist) and I looked like I was halfway presentable.

"If you end up going out with this man again you and I are going to have to do some shopping to prepare you. I am a miracle working, Bella, but there is only so much a miracle can do," she said, admiring her work with a smile. I smiled back at her tentatively and then looked at the clock. I had just enough time, if I went right then, to make it to the restaurant in time. I said a hurried goodbye to Alice with a promise of much thanks and an offer to repay her in a way of her choice whenever she needed for working something into an outfit that was suitable for a first date.

I jumped in my car and drove to Angelo's. When I got to the doors of the restaurant, I took a slow few breaths and steeled myself. Maybe he would not be what I wanted him to be, maybe he would be horribly ugly, or boring, or a pervert. I decided that my curiosity would never be satisfied if I didn't take the plunge, and that it was well worth the risk. I pushed the doors open and walked up to the hostess podium. A pretty young woman, probably about twenty asked me how she could help me.

"Actually, I'm meeting someone here," I told her, scanning the room, looking for a man in a black button down shirt and a single rose. I saw no one matching the description. Maybe he was in the bathroom, I suggested to myself. "Has anyone come in here asking for a table for two by themselves?" I asked. The girl shook her head.

"Okay, well, I'll just wait for them then," I said. She smiled at me and I took a seat on one of the benches they put out for waiting.

Ten minutes passed. Couples walked in, families entered, single women and single men who did not fit the description I was given came in for their meals. No one who was wearing what I was informed The Doctor would be wearing. Maybe he was running late. Or maybe he wasn't coming.

Another five minutes passed and I sighed in slight annoyance. I was beginning to think that maybe this whole thing was a big joke set on poor Bella, the perpetually single girl who couldn't get a date to save her ridiculous life. I started to feel absurd there, waiting. I decided to give it five more minutes in case he had some excuse for being twenty minutes late to a first date.

Five more minutes.

Four more minutes.

Three more minutes.

Two more minutes.

One more minute.

The hostess looked at me with pity in her eyes as I sighed and got up from the bench. I looked once more into the dining area, lit sparsely with little lamps, open enough that I could see everyone in the room. None of them was The Doctor.

I turned around in a huff, humiliated at having done any of this in the first place. I couldn't believe that I had just wasted all this time and effort trying to make myself look nice for a date that wasn't even going to happen. I was furious with this Doctor for standing me up, but more furious with myself because I had let myself get the idea into my head that something like this might work out. I walked out the doors of the restaurant, muttering under my breath about stupid men while tears pricked my eyes.

It would have been a perfect moment for him to come running out of his car, holding the rose. I could have confronted him and he could have said that he was saving some child's life at the hospital and I could accept that, we could have a good date and he could be everything I wanted him to be. It would be a perfect movie moment.

Too bad that didn't happen.

I drove home. I wiped off the makeup on my face, put on pajamas and sat on my couch eating ice cream and watching stupid reality television. Alice called and left a message on my machine, hoping my date had gone well and wanting to hear everything. I didn't have the heart to call her back and tell her my frustration. Being stood up was bad enough, but being stood up by a guy you met through the personals when you knew you shouldn't have put the response up anyway, in a situation when you knew you were stupid to think a man who sounded like that would be interested in someone like me was infinitely worse. He probably rethought his choice and realized that a woman like me wouldn't be interesting enough for someone like him.

I fell asleep on my couch.

I woke up miraculously the next morning with enough time to get to work. I was groggy. I was still angry. I went into work in a foul mood, sat at my desk with my ritual coffee and muffin already there. There was a message from Frank on my desk saying that he loved the ads from this week and he was awaiting the response from the Sunday layout. It made me a feel a little better as I looked through the copy for Tuesday, did my usual correcting and then gave it to Angela for editing. It was a normal day. Except I felt like a fool.

After I had a brief lunch Alice called me. I told her what had happened the night before, how I had gotten stood up. I left out how ridiculous I felt.

"Why that bastard! I cannot believe this! I'm incensed! I'm so angry right now. If I were still there I would find the asshole and give him a piece of my mind. He is _so lucky_ I am not pregnant any more or I would definitely do it, even on leave," she said on the other side of the line.

"Don't trouble yourself, Alice. It isn't a big deal," I said. I was lying of course, but over the phone it would be harder for her to tell.

"It is _so_ a big deal, Isabella Marie. You haven't taken any sort of risk in the dating world in _years_ and then the one time you do you get yourself stood up. I am so sorry honey, really. He is an awful man."

"You don't know that, Alice. For all you know it was an accident, he got caught up, who knows."

"Don't make excuses for some guy you don't know, Bella. He is an asshole. Leave it at that. Do you want to come over and eat ice cream with me tonight?" she asked.

"No," I said dejectedly, "I ate enough ice cream to overload anyone on dairy for months. And you should just relax with your family. I'll be okay," I assured her. I heard her sigh on the other side of the line, but I couldn't let her take care of me when I was feeling bummed. She had a baby, a husband, a whole little family. I could handle my own issues. I would just have to be self sufficient. It wasn't as though I was incapable.

After a few more words between Alice and I we hung up and I decided to go get another coffee. Right as I was opening my door to retrieve some caffeine there was a knock and the door swung open. Of course, being as clumsy as I am, the door pushed into me instead of what I wanted to do, which was step out of the way. Angela stood in the doorway with someone behind her, as I sat on the floor after falling on my ass.

"Oh! Bella, are you alright?" Angela asked.

"Peachy," I replied. I stood up and brushed myself off.

"I'm so sorry, but this man is here and wanted to know who he could talk to about our Sunday layout. I told him you are the copy editor and came up with the idea."

I looked past her and for a moment I realized I was glad I didn't see him too well when I was on the floor. I would have been mortified – well, more than I was at that moment.

He was beautiful. He was taller than Angela, much taller than me, with a lithe form that fit so well into the slacks and button down he was wearing I could hardly stand it. But my eyes lingered on his body for a fraction of a second before traveling of their own volition to his face. It was something that should have been in museums. He looked like he was sculpted from marble. Perfect sloping nose, defined chin, high cheekbones, perfect mouth, startlingly, beautifully, unfairly green eyes set under long lashes and unruly bronze hair that seemed to go everywhere. I felt a shudder ripple through me.

"Mr. Cullen, this is my boss, the editor for the personals, Bella Swan," Angela said, stepping out of my office quietly, closing the door behind her. I took a breath and smelled a deep, sweet smell, like hazel and _man_. I said in a voice that squeaked far too much for my own liking for this man to sit down as I walked around my desk to take a seat myself. I didn't trust my legs to keep me up with him around. Saying my knees felt weak was an understatement. My entire body felt like it had gone to jelly just by being a few feet from this man. I knew there was something I wasn't getting here, some underlying knowledge that was prodding my mind to remember but it was hard to think.

"So, what brings you here, Mr. Cullen?" I asked, my voice blessedly stable.

"Well, I fear that I may have insulted someone who reads your personal ads and I was hoping you could help me find an adequate way to apologize using your space," he replied. His voice was like velvet, soft and almost warm and comforting. It made me want to relax.

"Well I would be glad to help, if only I understood what it was you thought I could do for you," I told him. He smiled.

"Well, you see, last night I was supposed to meet a woman out for dinner, but unfortunately I was unable to make it until much later. The hostess told me there was a woman waiting for someone who had left about five minutes before I arrived looking very upset. I am afraid she will be very angry with me, and I think the only way to apologize would be to use the personals' space, seeing as I do not know how else to find her."

My heart dropped to my feet, bounced back into my throat, settled in my chest and began to beat double time. _This_ was The Doctor? There was no way. It couldn't be. How was it possible that this man, this _god_ needed any help finding dates? It just didn't make sense.

"You're The Doctor?" I asked, my voice higher pitched than it had been a moment before. He nodded with a shy smile on his face.

"I'm afraid The Bookworm might be unhappy with me," he said with chagrin.

"Well do you have a good reason for being late?" I inquired. I was still in shock. I couldn't believe my mouth was working. I couldn't believe I was asking him this. There was no way I could tell him I was The Bookworm. I had embarrassed myself the first five seconds he had seen me. And there was no way, after seeing him, that I could possibly ever compare. He would never want a woman like me, so plain and uninteresting compared to a man who was interesting, and accomplished and more attractive than any one man really had the right to be. There was no way he would be interested in me.

"There was a little girl in my ward that had to go into surgery yesterday. She asked me if I would be there when she woke up because she was scared. I promised her I would be. I thought at most I would be five minutes late, but she didn't wake up until seven o'clock, and I had to make sure she was alright. I went to the restaurant still in my hospital clothes just to get there as quickly as possible but my date was already gone. I feel awful, but I can't apologize to her in any other way than this because I don't know who she really is. Do you understand where I am coming from?"

I nodded. I felt my heart swell. He didn't stand me up; he was waiting for a scared little girl to come out of surgery. If there was a more heart wrenching of a story in the entire world, I wasn't sure what it was. I felt awful for having been so angry. I couldn't have known, but if I had only stayed another five minutes I would have seen him. He would have seen me.

"So you want to write a public apology to this woman hoping she will forgive you?" I asked. He nodded, still with that shy smile on his face. My God, he was beautiful.

"Well, Mr. Cullen ―"

"Edward."

I smiled.

"_Edward_, I think it is an excellent idea. Perhaps you would like to draft something up and then send it in. Do you want to put it in another Sunday ad or a weekday ad?" I asked. He shook his head.

"I want this to run for tomorrow's paper. I want her to see my apology as soon as possible," he claimed adamantly. His voice was urgent, but supplicating. It was amazing how quickly and easily he bent my will. I sighed. There was a half an hour before deadline, but if he could write something up and I could fix it and bring it to Emmett before that time, we could run it tomorrow.

Or, I thought, you could just tell him it was you, he could apologize to you, and there would be no reason.

I couldn't. I couldn't reveal myself to him like this, after being humiliated. I wasn't sure if I could reveal myself to him at all. I was now petrified of the idea of him knowing who The Bookworm truly was.

So I explained about the deadline to him and he nodded understandingly. He asked for a piece of paper so he could write a rough draft of what he wanted to say. I gave him a sheet of lined paper and a pen. I watched him write, fiddling with the pen every so often before putting it down, rereading what he had written and then passing it to me with a sigh. I took the paper from him and I felt him watching me as I had watched him. His handwriting was perfect, beautiful, legible and unfairly neat.

_To The Bookworm, I must apologize most profusely. I know it seemed as though I simply stood you up last night at the restaurant, a date I set up myself. You must be horribly offended and disappointed with me. But along with my most sincere apologies I must offer an explanation. I fear my work at the hospital sometimes puts me behind the schedule I make for myself, the delay in this case being a seven year old girl who asked me to watch over her after she came out of surgery. According to the hostess at the restaurant, I missed you by no more than five minutes. Again, I apologize most profusely, more genuinely than I could possibly explain. I hope you will allow me to make it up to you. Perhaps we can try dinner again, this Friday night, same time same place? It is my day off, so I promise I will not be late nor will I stand you up. I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me, if not, I will understand completely.—The Doctor_

I read his apology letter twice before putting it on my desk and looking up at Edward Cullen. He was eloquent, compassionate, beautiful and had excellent penmanship.

I was a goner.

"Do you think she will forgive me?" he asked. There was an air of genuine questioning when he asked.

"Edward, I don't think she will have much of a choice with an apology like that," I said. He smiled.

"One can only hope."

Another fifteen minutes passed in my office between Edward Cullen and me. We made small talk while I typed up his apology. While I was typing I told Angela to call Emmett and tell him we were redoing our layout so not to use the one we had brought him. She did as I asked and I added Edward's apology letter to the layout as soon as it was done being typed, reworking it so the letter would fit. He thanked me, asked me where he should go to pay for the ad. I directed him to the billing office and then we said our goodbyes.

I watched him go and let out a long sigh as he walked out. Immediately after he was gone I called Alice.

She answered her phone and sounded surprised to hear from me.

"Alice, I just met The Doctor!" I exclaimed into the phone.

"What? How?"

I explained the events that led him to my office and she listened intently.

"So you didn't tell him that The Bookworm was you?" she asked, sounding perplexed.

"No, of course I didn't. Alice, did you hear me when I told you what he looks like? He is practically a Greek god. He might as well be Zeus himself. And now I feel like such an ass, not only because I was so angry with him when he had a perfectly reasonable excuse to be late, but because I made a complete fool of myself within the first ten seconds of him seeing me. If he knew it was me, he would never want to date me. I don't compare."

I heard Alice snort on the other side of the line, sounding disapproving. But I didn't ask. I was too overwhelmed.

"So what now? Are you going to go to the date?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know. On the one hand, how can I not? After that apology and knowing who he is, I would feel like I was betraying all of womankind by letting an invitation to a date go to waste. But now that he has met me, and I didn't tell him I was The Bookworm, what will he think when I show up? He might be angry that I let him place that ad," I reasoned. Alice sighed.

"I think you should go, Bella. You took a chance placing that response, you took a chance going to meet him on Sunday, why not take a chance and let him have a fair shot at something with you?"

"But ―"

"Worry about any of the terrible ends that might come when they come. I know you; I know you like to organize everything. I know for you, everything has its place, ever risk is assessed. For once, can you please just let something in your life be chaotic and unsure and enjoy the spontaneity? If he is angry with you, then let him be angry. And if he is so angry that he doesn't want to see you, it is his loss, because he is not going to find a more beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, wonderful woman than you. It just isn't possible."

"What about you?" I asked jokingly.

"I'm already married, Bella. I don't count. Besides, he sounds much more like your type anyway. I prefer my men tall, blond and slightly southern."

"You lucked out with Jasper then," I replied dryly.

"I surely did. But listen, you are going to need something to wear, to really knock him on his ass when you see him, so he won't even think about you not admitting to being The Bookworm. Why don't you come over after work tomorrow and we can online shop. I can make sure it gets delivered to you next day so you can wear something new to your date," she suggested. I sighed but finally agreed. With that agreed upon we then hung up, and I continued working, sorting through Sunday layout ads before the day ended.

The next day I went to work, and like I had promised, I went to Alice's apartment at the end of the day. Lily was up but quietly resting in her mother's arms. Alice was really taking to motherhood with a sort of ease that was wonderful to see. We went to her computer, Alice holding Lily in a chair while I dragged one beside her to look at things. We rifled through page after page of online things, eventually to settle on a deep indigo dress that Alice insisted would look stunning on me. It wasn't too revealing or too safe; it was just daring enough to cause a stir, according to Alice. Personally, I couldn't help but be apprehensive but I loved the color and cut of the dress, and agreed to purchase it.

When it arrived at my house I tried it on and much to my pleasure and equal dismay it did exactly what Alice said it would do – look outrageously good on me. I knew I had to go now, if only because I bought this beautiful new dress.

But also because I had slipped a response into the paper today to his apology letter. I didn't need to address it to him; he would know with the few short words that it was to him. Because in the layout, I had written four words to let him know he was forgiven. When he read it he would know that we were on for the Friday night date. Right in the middle of the page I had included my agreement.

_I will be there._


	3. Dinner and Identity

Friday came so much faster than I thought it could. What they say about time passing quickly if it's something you're enjoying wasn't the whole story. Time passes quickly if you're dreading something coming up as well. And I had very real dread seated in the pit of my stomach for days, waiting for Friday night to come when I would have to tell Edward, the stunning man that he was, the truth about The Bookwork and that she and I were one in the same.

I was sitting through everyday doing my work, trying my hardest to invest myself in it because otherwise my mind shifted to Edward unconsciously, that beautiful smile, his emerald eyes, even the way he smelled and how intoxicating the scent had been. And if I started to think about Edward, I would of course begin that way, but then my thoughts would slowly but surely shift to terror. I had to see him Friday night. And for any other woman in the entire world spending a night with Edward, going on a _date_ with him would be a great privilege and it would be something to be anticipated. But I had to tell him the truth about his personal ad romantic interest. Not to mention, on top of lying to him about my identity as The Bookworm, he was going to see that the woman who had captured his interest was not, in fact, as interesting as he was. I wasn't the type of woman to catch and keep his attention anywhere but in the fictional world of our ads. He had read what I wanted to tell him about myself. I didn't also mention that I talked in my sleep, that I was anal retentive about organization, that I hadn't kissed anyone in years and the one person I ever had was a holdover high school boyfriend that hadn't offered much in the way of good experiences.

I should have been excited; instead I was terrified to disappoint him.

During the workday on Friday I tried my hardest not to think about my impending date. It was made easier when Frank came to my office after I was done looking over the copy for Saturday. I was about to start in on the newest batch on Sunday layout ads when he knocked on the door. I called absently for whoever it was to come in and looked up to see Frank opening the door.

"Oh, hello Frank, how can I help you?" I asked, putting down the fresh Sunday ads. He sat down in one of the chairs across from my desk, a stack of papers in hand.

"Bella, the apology letter that you included in the personals a few days ago has caused quite a stir," he informed me. I raised an eyebrow.

"How is that?"

"I was just given something from the editor of the editorials section, and I think you should take a look at it."

Frank slid his stack of papers across the desk to me. I skimmed the first few lines of the letter to the editor. It started out about the new Sunday personals layout and I was happy to see a positive response. But then it changed topics, to the apology letter Edward had written. She called him a true twenty-first century gentleman. She said the woman he was pursuing through the personals would have to be 'a complete idiot' not to forgive him and that if she didn't, this woman would 'gladly go on the date for her'.

_I read his ad when it first came out_, I read, _and I read the response from The Bookworm and his response to her. They seem well suited for each other._

There were several other letters to the same effect.

"People are writing editorials about personal ads now?"

"About The Doctor, yes. You have to admit, it is pretty funny," he said. I smiled and conceded with a nod. Of all the things for people to write editorials about, personal ads were not the things I assumed people would be outraged about. Apparently, I was wrong. I laughed.

"This is ridiculous, Frank," I said. He nodded.

"I agree. I just thought you would like to know that your ideas have caused a stir, enough that people are writing editorials. I know you have another few months working here as the copy editor for personals, but when Alice returns and you are back to your normal job as a journalist, I promise you can have first pick for your first assignment."

I looked at him, pleasantly shocked.

"Are you serious?" I asked. He laughed.

"As a heart attack, Bella. You have proven yourself responsible enough to handle the duties set out for you, and innovative enough to revamp out-dated systems and spark new interest. I would be stupid to not let you take on whatever assignment you might want. I can only imagine what you might be able to do with a subject matter more interesting than other people's love lives."

I wasn't sure what to say, so I simply thanked him. He was giving me a promise I would hold him to. Finally, when Alice was back and I was released from my duty as her fill in copy editor, I would be able to do some serious journalism, my true passion. I was so ecstatic that even after he left I was humming with energy. It was only when the work day ended that I remembered what it was I was supposed to do that night. A flicker of panic filled me again, but it was immediately overwhelmed with the earlier excitement. For the moment I could sue that to offset my nerves.

I went home and showered before changing into the dress Alice had coerced me into buying. I admired the indigo color again, the beautiful neckline, the way it seemed to shape my body into something I wasn't aware it could be. I slipped on the kitten heels Alice had told me 'absolutely had to wear'. I did not put on make-up, but I did fuss with my hair a little bit, trying to intimidate it into something that resembled a neater appearing mane of curls. It cooperated, for once in my life. I convinced myself, as I stepped out the door, that I would not trip on my heels, I would not spill anything on this dress, and I would not make a fool of myself.

The drive to Angelo's was possibly the most terrifying drive I had ever made. On the one hand, my dread had returned, on the other, I was about to see Edward. Putting aside my fear of rejection, inadequacy and his possible anger, the idea of laying my eyes on such a gorgeous man made my skin tingle. I hadn't been even remotely interested in a man in any way in years, not for his intellect, his sense of humor or his body, not to say I hadn't been propositioned. Being surrounded by lewd men seemed for a while to be a constant plight. For some reason after Jake and I broke up, after I started working at the paper, I was newly attractive to a whole group of men who never paid attention to me before. I had more offers for sex for the first six months of my new job than in the whole of the rest of my life. Needless to say, I was nowhere near interested.

But for some reason, Edward was the only man I had seen in years that made me react in any way. It scared and excited me. I tried to focus on the excitement.

I parked the car. I took a deep breath. I got out and took another one. When I walked into the restaurant I felt a wave of déjà vu. There was a different hostess tonight but I felt the same.

I searched the tables in the place to find if he was already there, waiting for me. I scanned every single one.

And he was there.

He was standing with his back to me, but I knew it was him. The unkempt bronze colored hair was the dead giveaway, above the black shirt he had said he would be wearing. I didn't have to see his face to know that he looked amazing, that the very sight of him would make my legs shake.

He was standing at the bar of the restaurant, about to order a drink. I smiled at the hostess and made motion to the bar and she nodded, accepting my explanation. I walked over to where Edward was standing and took a long, slow breath. I wasn't sure how to say this. I wasn't sure if I should just tap him on the shoulder and say something like, "Hello, Edward, its lovely to see you too, by the way I know you were in my office earlier and I had a perfect time to tell you that I am The Bookworm, but I couldn't, I can't explain why. But I am here now, so, hello."

I realized even as I was thinking it that saying those words out loud would make me sound absolutely ridiculous, more ridiculous than I already as going to seem. But I knew I had to say something. But as I was about to tap his shoulder and get his attention, Edward turned slightly and must have caught me in his peripheral vision. He spun and looked at me full on, genuine surprise in his eyes.

"Bella! What a pleasant surprise to find you here, and looking so beautiful. What are you doing here?" he asked. There was innocence in his eyes and in his tone. He clearly didn't understand yet. But I couldn't open my mouth to speak. So I let the moment pass, I let him think it over. I watched as innocent questioning became confusion, and then after a moment, surprise.

"Curly brown hair, brown eyes, works at a newspaper…Bella…are _you_ The Bookworm?"

Again my voice failed me, so I simply nodded. He looked at me with an unreadable expression, something I couldn't even try to decipher. There passed a moment in thick silence. And then he smiled. His grin was wide and genuine and I felt my face break into a similar smile as he looked at me.

"I had no idea. Perhaps I should have, the way you reacted to my admission of being The Doctor in your office, but I would never have guessed that The Bookworm would be a woman as," he took a moment and looked me over, and I felt the blush rise in my cheeks, "as stunning as you are."

I smiled.

"The only thing I don't understand is why you didn't tell me when I came to see you in your office," he confessed.

"I couldn't. I wanted to but I, I just couldn't," I stammered. He looked at me with confusion in his eyes and then opened his mouth to say something. Before his words left his mouth, however, we were interrupted.

"Sir would you and your lady friend like a drink?" the bartender asked. I looked at Edward, who glanced at me momentarily and then shook his head.

"No thank you sir," Edward answered. I looked at him perplexed as the bartender walked away.

I didn't understand. Did he not want to stay and have dinner with me? Was he angry that I hadn't told him that I was The Bookworm in my office? He hadn't seemed angry a moment before, but perhaps I had misread him. I felt my heart sink. I had been so hopeful when he smiled at me as he had before, when he told me I was stunning. I had thought for sure that meant all was forgiven and that it didn't matter now, that we could maybe pretend that hadn't happened, just be Bella and Edward.

"Is everything alright, Bella?" Edward asked. His voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up at him, his face several inches above mine, perfect green eyes blazing in my direction. I felt my face light up with blushing fire again and Edward smiled wider.

"Would you be interested in joining me for dinner, Bella, somewhere with a better wine selection where I haven't already kept you waiting once?" he inquired.

"I thought you said you didn't want a drink," I stated.

"Here, I don't want to have a drink here. But I would be more than happy to bring you to a different restaurant and have dinner and possibly several drinks with you, is that something you might find yourself persuaded to do?"

"I…yes, I would love to," I replied.

"Perfect. I know an excellent restaurant right down the street we can go to, the chef is a family friend. And as promised, they have a fantastic wine selection."

I grinned. I wanted to tell him we could go sit in MacDonald's and I wouldn't care as long as I was sitting there with him, but I nodded instead.

"Allow me to drive?" he asked. "Unless that would make you uncomfortable in which case I could tell you where it is and we could meet there."

"Oh, no, I mean no it doesn't make me uncomfortable. We can drive over there together if you want to."

He smiled and I pocketed my car keys and followed him over to his car, a shiny, brand new looking silver Volvo. He opened the passenger door for me, waited until I was all the way in and then closed it behind me before going around to his side of the car and climbing inside. It smelled new to me, but I didn't ask any questions about the car. I did however ask him about the music he had playing. His radio was hooked up to his iPod, which was softly playing Luciano Pavarotti's 'Nessun Dorma'. I looked at him with questions in my eyes.

"You cannot tell me you have never heard of Pavarotti," he said.

"Of course not, I love the Three Tenors. I just didn't know anyone else in our generation had any idea who he was."

"How could I not know about the last great classically trained opera singer?" he inquired with a playful grin. I laughed.

"Touché. Well, besides your knowledge of opera singers, what else do you like to listen to?"

Edward gestured to his iPod.

"Take a look, pick something out," he invited. I smiled and plucked his iPod from the center consol. I flipped through his many artists and many thousands of songs and eventually put on Joni Mitchell's 'A Case of You' for the rest of the ride over. He nodded in approval of my choice as we continued small talk on the way to the place he was taking me.

When the car stopped Edward did exactly as he had done when we got into it, only in reverse. He opened the door for me, and closed it behind me when I got out. We walked into the restaurant and the woman behind the hostess podium greeted Edward by name.

"A table for two?" she asked. Edward nodded.

"Something private, Shauna," he said. She nodded as she grabbed two menus off the podium and led us to a table in the back of the restaurant. There was another couple at a booth across the room but they were facing a completely different direction. We might as well have been alone.

"Is this what you were looking for?" she asked. He thanked her and she set the menus down, telling us Annie would be our waitress and she would be over in a moment. Edward and I seated ourselves and began immediately looking over the wine selection. He hadn't been kidding; it was extensive, impressive even. When the waitress came we ordered a cabernet, which was perfectly aged and fantastic. I enjoyed the wine as we looked over the menu for something to eat.

"Do you eat here a lot?" I asked after the waitress took our order. I ordered Portobello mushroom ravioli, and Edward ordered a pan seared chicken dish.

"Well, this place is right down the street from the hospital, about a two minute walk. I got sick of hospital food, and so when I had time before a shift or after, if this place was open I ended up coming here. I guess you could say I became a regular. Shauna's dad owns the place and he and I have become friends over the years of me coming in here. When he needed a new chef I suggested a man my father had been friends with since college. And the cabernet you are drinking is actually something I suggested he add to the wine list," he told me as I sipped at the very wine he was referring to. I raised my eyebrows, impressed with him. A man who had good taste in wine as well as a good job and dashing good looks? How as it that he was single?

"I have a question for you," both Edward and I said at the exact same time. We both laughed a little nervously.

"Ladies first," he insisted. I smiled.

"Well, pardon me for asking, but I can't help but wonder how a man like you isn't married or at least dating," I admitted. Edward smiled.

"Well, I suppose it was at first because the medical field is incredibly demanding, and something you will learn about me is that I take medicine very seriously. People depend on me to take care of them, and that is not a job I will ever do any way but the best. But after I settled into the hospital I did try to do some dating. And I met a woman, her name was Victoria. We hit it off for a while and then…things fell apart very fast. She got very jealous, very suddenly. I found out she was cheating on me, and because of that I couldn't trust her, which meant I couldn't be with her. But she…wasn't ready to let go. She, well I guess the accurate way to say it is to say that she stalked me for a short time. It sort of, put me off women for a while. But that was years ago. I suppose it has been hard to get back into the dating 'scene' as it were."

I nodded. I knew exactly what he was talking about. I hadn't even gone on a date since Jake and I split. It was more than difficult to get back into it. I didn't even know how to go about it. But I figured that was exactly how Edward felt and that was why he had gone to the personal ads. After another sip of his wine he smiled at me.

"My turn," he informed me.

"Ask away."

"Well, back at Angelo's, you said you wanted to tell me the truth about your being The Bookworm, but you couldn't. I find myself wondering what it is you meant by that."

I swallowed hard. I knew I was going to have to answer this question sooner or later, but I had been hoping for later, much much later.

"Well, you have to understand that my responding to your ad was kind of a last minute, on a whim sort of thing. I hadn't ever really thought about it until for some reason, I just felt…drawn to respond. I know that sounds incredibly creepy, believe me, and with your history with women I can understand that it might sound mildly stalker-like. But when you came into my office and told me what had happened and why you were not to dinner in time, well, I realized that you were a so much better of a man than I had even thought, and I thought pretty highly of you. I had to convince myself that you must be some sort of deformed pervert in order to balance out how wonderful you sounded. But then there you were, in my office and you…are certainly not deformed or a pervert, and I just thought…I just thought, there is no way I could ever tell him that _I_ am the woman he is supposed to be seeing, because there is just no way I could measure up."

Our waitress came over and put down my plate, then Edwards. She asked if there was anything she could get for us at this time, I shook my head. She walked away with a smile. I couldn't look at Edward. He had another one of those expressions that were impossible to read.

"Bella, while I do not understand your reasons, I am not angry. I can forgive you for being less than honest, on one condition," he said.

"Name it," I replied.

"Do not ever let me hear ridiculous words like those come out of your mouth ever again."

I stared at him, waiting for him to crack a smile and tell me he was joking. He didn't.

"Okay," I said finally. I realized he hadn't been kidding. That didn't change my opinion about the inadequacy of the pairing, but I didn't say that.

With the serious parts of conversation covered, we started a more natural conversation. We talked for hours. We ate our food and watched the plates get carried away as we finished the bottle of wine and conversed. Shauna eventually told us that they were closing. It was past midnight. We had to leave.

Edward and I laughed at the fact that we had to be told because we had been so wrapped up in our conversation that we hadn't noticed the time.

When we walked out of the restaurant we repeated the car ritual, both upon entering and exiting when he dropped me off at my car.

"Well, Bella, this is where I have to leave you for the night. Another time I might have asked you back to my apartment for coffee, but I have an early shift tomorrow at the hospital."

"Saturdays do my busy days as well, I have to firm up the Sunday layout and all that. But certainly another time," I said. He nodded.

"I had a great time, Edward, really."

"So did I, Bella."

And there was an awkwardness between us, as the moment revealed itself to be the one in which we would kiss goodnight if we were going to. I certainly wasn't going to make the first move. I wasn't even really sure how.

But Edward took a step toward me. My breath stopped. Suddenly his whole face seemed very clearly defined in the light from the street lamps and the sign for Angelo's. He was so unfairly good looking. My heart sped up in my chest to twice its normal rate in the matter of seconds as his body got closer to mine. He ducked his head and brought his lips to my forehead. I sighed, half in relief, half in frustration. I felt his lips curl into a smile against my skin.

"Have a good night, Bella," he said to me as he backed away. That little kiss to my forehead had wrecked havoc on my heart. I could still hear it pounding in my ears. I muttered something like 'you too' as I let out a slow breath to calm down. Edward walked back to his car and stood there watching me as I got into my car. I drove home, catching the occasional whiff of his deep ginger smell as it clung to my dress from being in his car.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

* * *

When I got to the office the next morning I was practically skipping about, doing my work. I had the layout done my noon. I edited the next day's copy by one thirty. It was then that I was about to take my lunch when Angela called me from her desk.

"Bella, you haven't taken lunch yet have you?" she asked. I told her I hadn't. Without warning she hung up on me. A moment later she came knocking on my door.

"Angela, may I ask what caused you to inquire about lunch and then hang up on me?" I asked, looking down at one of more recent Sunday ads that we had gotten this morning and hadn't had space to include.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not Angela," a deeper, masculine voice replied. I looked up from my desk and Edward was standing in the doorway, closing the door behind him. I almost gasped. I had forgotten how I melted when he rested those emerald eyes on me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked excitedly.

"I can leave if you want," he said with a laugh. I scowled.

"That is not what I meant at all and you know it. Of course you shouldn't leave."

"I came here because I got out of work an hour ago and thought to myself, I should have some lunch, but realized that my meal would feel incredibly lonely eating all by myself. So I came here in hopes that being the workaholic you professed yourself to be, that you would not have taken lunch yet and I could offer you something from this charming basket into which I have packed a multitude of food."

I smiled at him. He was charming, handsome, smart, funny and thoughtful, not to mention he knew about the Luciano Pavarotti and good wine. Was there _anything_ wrong with him?

But instead of pondering his faults I enjoyed his virtues and cleared off my desk where he put down the basket. He laid upon my desk two sandwiches he had made, a thermos of soup, grapes, both red and green, fresh Italian bread, gouda cheese and milk chocolate truffles.

"You packed all of this from your kitchen?" I asked. He nodded. I was genuinely impressed and surprised. Even I didn't usually stock my kitchen this well.

We ate lunch—I his green grapes, bread, cheese and chocolate, he half a sandwich, some soup and the rest of the unfinished chocolate. And while we ate we talked more, and I felt the tug toward him strengthen every time he opened his mouth and spoke, a shiver running through me every time he said my name or smiled at me in that oh so charming way he could, crooked and gorgeous, unfair in every conceivable way.

And for every question I had about him, and I had thousands, he seemed as endlessly curious about me. We exchanged questions and answers like it was some sort of game. And when my hour long lunch—which I had never taken the full time for in my entire career at the paper—was over, Edward said he should be going.

"Oh, one last thing, I almost forgot," he said before exiting my office. From the basket he had put the food in, he produced a bouquet of wildflowers.

"I know I promised you a rose, but somehow I got the feeling last night that you are not the kind of woman to be wooed with clichés. I am sure I will be seeing you soon. Have a good rest of your day, Bella."

I smiled at him as he walked out of my office after handing me the flowers. I looked down at the flowers and noticed, among the colorful blossoms, a white card tucked between them. I pulled it away from the blooms and opened the envelope, producing a plain white piece of thick paper. On it was scrawled Edward's neat, elegant script.

_I know we just saw each other last night, but in all honesty, I couldn't wait to see you again. I hope you like the flowers. Give me a call when you have some free time in which I could take you out again._

At the bottom was written his name, the number at which to reach him. I smiled and put the card down on my desk, slipping it face down. My eyes got caught at a little note on the back of the card I hadn't noticed.

_When I told you that you looked stunning last night, I was lying._

_Stunning doesn't even begin to cover it._

I was smiling like an idiot when my phone rang. I picked it up without thinking. It was Alice, who was curious about how my date had gone. I found myself gushing to her about Edward. I wasn't the type to gush. I never had before. But something about this felt different, and so there I was, spilling my guts about the date, about the way he and I had just clicked with almost no effort, the way his sense of humor fit mine, his interests were varied and complimented mine. He wasn't a deadbeat, he wasn't an idiot, and he obviously needed no help in the looks department. I knew there was no such thing as a perfect man, but damn if Edward wasn't as close to perfection as they came.

Alice of course gushed right back, telling me she had good feelings about this guy, and that things were going to be great between us. I was of course more than happy to hear about anything good she wanted to say about Edward, be it something she had one of her many Alice feelings about or otherwise. She was always telling me she had good or bad feelings about things, like now or when she said she just knew I was going to find someone when I took over her job. The scary thing was that most of the time, Alice was right. I had learned not to question it when she told me she had a feeling about something. She had had a feeling about Jasper and now they were married with their first child.

So if she said she had a feeling about Edward, I was not going to go against her. I would enjoy whatever goodness she saw coming my way from his direction for as long as I could.

And of course in true Alice form she asked me if we had gone to bed together after we went to dinner. I told her he was far too much of a gentleman to do such a thing as have sex on the first date. And I was far shy to jump into bed with someone I didn't know all that well, even someone as outrageously good looking and charming as Edward. I couldn't even think about how he might be in bed, it would be all I would think about for the rest of the day.

So after much reassurance that I did not in fact sleep with the gorgeous and debonair Dr. Edward Cullen, I promised to see Alice soon and hung up. With all the work I could possibly get done for the day already finished and the end of the day approaching I got my things together and began getting ready to leave. As soon as the clock hit four and it was my time to go, I walked out of my office, out of the building, and got home as quickly as possible.

I felt more relaxed as I made myself dinner that night than I had felt in such a very long time. It worried me at first, the sudden profound way I was reacting to Edward, the way I couldn't seem to get my mind off of him or the way he made my body melt and my mind settle. But I couldn't help myself. It wasn't as though I was planning on running and professing my undying love to him next time I saw him and certainly he was not thinking of doing anything of the kind to me. I was just getting more and more infatuated every time I thought about him.

We talked for such a long time last night, about so many different things that it would have been hard to really remember them all if I had not made a point to etch them all in my mind with perfect clarity. We talked about his family, his parents were the most in love couple he had ever seen and he hoped to find a woman he could love as deeply as his father loved his mother. We talked about how he got into medicine, mostly because his father was a doctor, and he had always admired the profession and wished to be a doctor from a young age. And we talked about our pasts. He went to medical school at Johns Hopkins; I got my English degree with a minor in journalism at Dartmouth.

We were different enough not to bore each other but similar in the important ways. I honestly couldn't wait to see him again. I figured I would call him tomorrow and ask when he was free to do something. We could go to dinner again, we could see a movie, hell we could sit on my couch and order a pizza and drink beer, I didn't mind.

But Alice told me that it was supposed to be like this. I was supposed to feel this weird pull in my stomach that made me want to be around him no matter what we were doing. That was a good thing.

It was that night as I put the wild flowers Edward gave me into a vase that I began to question myself. I had always maintained that some people found real love; Alice was one of those people, I wasn't. But looking at the flowers, remembering the way I felt when he surprised me at my office, I had to wonder. I knew I didn't love Edward, but what I was beginning to realize was that if we dated, if we spent time together, I could fall for him. I would fall for him. It would be impossible to keep myself from falling; I didn't have that much control.

And for once, I didn't want to.


	4. Sophistication and Kisses

**hola. bonjour. hello readers. how are you? good, but a little sad I havent updated in a while? I understand. but fear not! Here you are, the next installment. a little later than I wanted, but here nonetheless.**

**read and enjoy. and some props to my dear BETA inclined friend. she is lovely**.

I spent the next few weeks doing my work, keeping up with the daily personals, the Sunday layouts, and spending time with Edward. Sundays were the best day for the both of us because I had established them as my day off and he usually did n ot have shifts on Sundays. So even if we went out to dinner some other night in the week, we found a way to spend Sundays together. I was afraid at first that all the time I was spending with him was going to get I the way of the time I was used to spending with Alice, but upon filling her in on every last details she insisted on knowing about our relationship, she told me in no uncertain terms that I was to spend as much time with Edward as he wanted. She had Jasper and Lily, and she was more than capable of filling her empty hours, however few and far between they were, with online shopping and using her long neglected treadmill.

So I did exactly as she recommended. When he called and asked if I wanted to get dinner, or go see a movie, or walk through the Sunday morning flee market before getting lunch, I said yes.

But I was getting frustrated. I loved the time we spent together. He was the most intelligent, sweetest man I had ever met, with a fantastic sense of humor to match. He was everything I could ever possibly think to want. But he was driving me insane.

I knew he was a gentleman, and I knew he wanted to take things slow. We had talked about it the second time we went out to dinner. And I couldn't blame him for it. Neither of us had dated in a long time, and the idea of rushing into some torrid love affair was more than a little frightening. I didn't want to ruin the chemistry between us. But at the end of every excursion of ours, we would say goodbye, hug, he would kiss my forehead and then…he would leave. He had yet to kiss me anywhere a brother wouldn't kiss his sister. I understood the need to take things slow, but I didn't understand the need to remain platonically involved.

I was beginning to get worried. Was it that I wasn't pretty enough? Was he not attracted to me? Did I have bad breath? Every time we went somewhere together and he refused to make any move in my direction to indicate any romantic inclinations my heart sunk a little further into my chest. He clearly wasn't interested in me romantically. It is one thing to take it slow, but he was a man, wasn't he? Most men find they want to kiss the objects of their affection. I sighed in frustration and self deprecation every time I got in my car without having kissed him.

One Saturday morning he called me and asked me if I would like to, last minute he knew, go out to dinner with him at a new restaurant near his apartment. I agreed of course, and we made plans to meet up at the place around seven. So of course I spent my day trying to waste time until it was time to start getting ready to see him. I showered. I shaved my legs. I did a facial mask. I took more time than anyone really ever needs to in order to pick out an outfit. I managed to miraculously take up enough time that once I was dressed I had time to run a comb through my hair and look decent before hopping into my car, turning on my GPS to find the restaurant and make it there on time.

When I pulled into the parking lot Edward was already there, flowers in hand. I grinned and bit my lip as I put my car into park and got out, crossing the small amount of space between us.

"Bella, you look lovely," he said, handing me daises. I thanked him and he offered me his arm. We talked about nothing in particular as we walked into the restaurant. He talked about his day in the ER, and I talked about some of the more hilarious personal ads I had read that day. It wasn't important things, nothing drastic, just the exchange of easy information between two people who enjoyed the other's company.

Dinner was superb, as the dinners I had at restaurants Edward recommended always were. We talked, we drank wine, we enjoyed our meals and each other. And then the time came when we were done eating, and it was almost eleven and Edward had an early shift the next morning. We exited the restaurant, my arms looped through his, and we stopped at my car.

"Thank you for the beautiful evening, Bella. I am always thankful when you grace me with your presence," he informed me with a warm smile. As he always did he leaned in and placed his lips upon my forehead in a sweet goodbye kiss. And then he pulled away. And he walked to his car.

I couldn't take it.

"Edward!" I called as he opened his door. He paused, keys dangling from his hand, looking up at me over the top of his car. I took a deep breath.

"Why won't you kiss me?"

He looked shocked for a moment, his mouth opened and closed a few times, nothing coming out.

"I wasn't aware you wanted me to kiss you," he said slowly. He was reaching for some semblance of logic in my sudden outburst, I could see it in the way his facial expression was changing, like he was looking for something and not finding it.

"I haven't dated much, but I have always been under the impression that when a man and a woman are dating, romantic intentions included, the aforementioned man usually finds himself wanting to kiss the aforementioned woman. So I've been told."

He laughed. He closed the door to his car and rounded it again, back to me, so he was standing right in front of me. He pocketed his keys and took my hands in his.

"My lovely, _lovely_ Bella, I can assure you, my want for you is in no way lacking, far from it. I told you I wanted to take this slowly, and with your emphatic agreement I was sure that you weren't going to want to jump into the physical portion of our relationship. If you would like a kiss," he said, moving his hands from mine to my hips, pulling me close, so his torso was flush to mine, "I am sure I can provide."

I lost my breath as he leaned down and put his mouth right next to mine. He waited a moment, just a moment, maybe to give me time to pull away if I changed my mind, before letting his lips collide with mine. It was just the barest contact at first, soft warmth and the slightest pressure. I gasped. He gasped. His fingers pressed into my hips tightly. My own hands found their way up around his neck and I leaned up, standing on my tiptoes to press my lips harder against his. His own responded and I felt something like lightning strike and run from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Our mouths parted for a moment, the time I took to breathe in, say his name, and then his lips were on mine again.

He pressed against me more, moving so I was pinned between his body and my car. I was losing my breath every moment his mouth moved against mine, every second I felt his hands holding me to him on the small of my back, twisted into my hair, held my face between them.

Minutes, or eons passed and he withdrew, cupping my face in his hands, forehead against mine, breathing ragged and quick, matching mine perfectly.

"I must admit, that wasn't exactly what I had in mind," I confessed. Edward chuckled breathlessly.

"I wouldn't take it back if I could," he answered.

"I wouldn't want you to," I told him, his lips met mine again. And again. We laughed a little. His hands dropped from my face and he stood up straight. The melted-butter yellow light from the street lamps threw his face into a strange relief and I brushed some of his relentlessly unruly hair out of his eyes, across his forehead.

"I still want to take it slow," he said quietly.

"So do I."

"But I would like to be able to kiss you like that all the time."

"So would I."

"We can take it slow and still…do things like that."

"Absolutely."

He smiled. His lips touched mine again.

"Edward?" I asked, after a moment of just standing, just little kisses.

"Am I your girlfriend?"

A moment passed.

"I thought you were," he said, his voice puzzled.

"All I know is that I have been reading Cosmo a lot, and that combined with Alice's relationship advice has been telling me that we aren't boyfriend and girlfriend until we actually have some sort of talk about it. So I wanted to…talk about it…I guess," I finished awkwardly.

"Since when do you read Cosmo?" he inquired, "I was under the impression you were more of a Jane Austen fan."

I sighed.

"Alice insisted upon it. She said this edition had new relationship tips…and it all backed up what she said!" I asserted.

"I always figured you to be the kind of woman that wouldn't read Cosmo without having to put her hands over the indiscreet photos," he answered. I shook my head.

"I use sticky notes, thank you very much."

Edward laughed, loud and genuine.

"Oh Bella, I adore you. Are you aware of that?"

I furrowed my brow.

"I will take that as a confused no. But my dear, I have to assure you that when I say I adore you, I mean it completely and without a single ounce of hesitation. You are truly a light in my life."

I smiled. I couldn't think of what to say.

"So in a long winded answer, yes, you are my girlfriend. You can throw away the Cosmo now."

"I think I would rather burn it."

"As you wish," he told me. He kissed me again, kissed me goodnight right after. He said he would call me the next day. Then he got into his car and drove away, so he could sleep and then get up in the morning and save more lives.

I leaned against my car and watched him drive away.

* * *

Being Edward's official girlfriend wasn't much different than anything before. We saw each other constantly. We talked; we spent time together in comfortable silence. And while we kept taking it slow, the kisses we shared after the first one were no less intense. They pushed more than just my physical and mental boundaries. I could tell the more we kept to our, 'taking it slow while still having incredibly powerful kisses' guideline, it was making him as crazy as it was making me.

But we _kept_taking it slow, because that was what was right for us. There were awkward moments still, when we would be a step away from taking things to the next level and then one of us realized that we needed to seriously slow down before we made a decision we would regret. And of course there were the other moments, the ones where we would cross a boundary in a question we asked or a comment we made that we didn't know we shouldn't cross. His touchy subject was his parents―both dead since he was fifteen. He was adopted by Carlisle and Esme Cullen, his uncle and aunt, shortly thereafter. They were loving people, and treated Edward like he was their own child. They had no children of their own, and Esme especially had attempted to make him feel like he was loved by the both of them. He told me all about Esme and Carlisle, how Carlisle had been his inspiration to be a doctor and everything about Esme's cooking. But he never talked about his biological parents. I didn't even know how they died.

I got the feeling that he wasn't the way I was with sensitive subjects, where a little pushing would cause a floodgate of information and I would explain everything. He seemed more like the type to shut down when asked about something he was sensitive about, and the little bit of pushing I did proved me right. I once asked where he got his eyes from. When he answered me―his father―his voice was quiet and clipped and he barely spoke for a half an hour afterward. I learned after that if he didn't mention his parents himself, I shouldn't bring them up.

But the more we spent time together, the more I was starting to trust Edward, and the more I was hoping he was starting to trust me. He brought me flowers, or gave me little trinkets reminiscent of conversations past. He even came to my apartment a few times to watch movies, drink beer and eat pizza. I was 'the most perfect woman' he had ever encountered. When I asked him why, he said he hadn't ever known a woman sophisticated enough to know about expensive wine and enjoy upscale restaurants but also low maintenance enough to not mind opening a couple bottles of beer, watching Fight Club and eating greasy pepperoni pizza.

I made a comment about moderation. He laughed, covered my mouth in a kiss and then went right back to watching Brad Pitt kick the crap out of Edward Norton as his bad ass alter ego.

It was on one such occasion, pizza on the way, a couple bottles of Magic Hat opened and on the coffee table as we began to watch Pulp Fiction when Edward turned to me, serious look on his face and sighed.

"This weekend I think we should have dinner at my apartment," he informed me.

"Beer, pizza and a movie at your place?" I inquired, after swallowing a sip of my beer.

"I was thinking of something more like wine and a nice dinner, listen to some music, but probably watch a movie, yes," he answered. I nodded, not thinking all that much of it at the time. We ate our food, drank our Magic Hat, and watched Pulp Fiction. We talked about Samuel L. Jackson's performance. We discussed the movie until we saw the clock, noticed it was one in the morning and that we both had to go to sleep to avoid being exhausted in the morning. I almost invited him to stay the night before deciding against it, insisting he call me when he made it home, kissing him goodbye.

The next day I was talking to Alice during my lunch break and she about screamed when I told her he had invited me to his place.

"Bella, this is _huge_, but for some reason you aren't freaking out. Why are you not freaking out?" she asked. I thought about it as I took a contemplative bite of my sandwich.

"Because it isn't as though he asked me to marry him, Alice, he asked me to come eat dinner at his apartment and watch a movie."

"But you haven't ever been there before. It is like…this is the next step, Bella. First his apartment, then some hot and heavy action on the couch; next thing you know you two will be on with the marriage and baby making just like Jasper and I!" she exclaimed.

"Slow down. He and I have been dating for a few months now. I don't think we should jump the gun and start picking out wedding venues or baby names."

"Not today, no; but just you wait, Bella. If you are seriously dating someone and they invite you over to their apartment, it is a big deal," she replied. I huffed.

"Did you get that from Cosmo, too?" I asked. She laughed.

We ended our conversation shortly thereafter, talking about planning a lunch out soon. When we got off the phone though, the things she had said made me nervous. What next step was she talking about? Were Edward and I going to…have _sex_?

I shuddered at the thought. Not because it disgusted me in any way, but because the idea of seeing Edward naked let alone sleeping with him made my whole body turn into jelly. Not to mention, the idea of that kind of intimacy with Edward was daunting. We were taking it slow, he had said. He wanted to keep taking it slow so neither of us would me uncomfortable. It both excited and terrified me to think of being so close to him like that.

But I was already jumping to conclusions. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe he was inviting me over now because he was a private person about his own space, or because he was renovating. But of course, Alice, being persuasive and knowledgeable like Alice was, planted a grain of doubt in my mind, and made me over think it all for the entire rest of the day. I was thinking it over as I corrected ads, sifted through Sunday submissions, fielded a call from Emmett about an editing question and then on my way home a call from Edward asking me to pick up a few things for dinner before I came over Saturday night. He had been so busy lately, he told me, and his pantry was ashamedly empty. I told him I would get some things, and he suggested something romantic for dinner. I told him his wish was my command. He laughed. We said goodbye.

Friday and Saturday were the two longest days of my entire life. I paced through the day on Friday and couldn't sit down for more than five minutes on Saturday. I was itching with energy. I made lists of food I wanted to buy, scratching them out and writing new ones in-between assignments. I had finally picked out what I wanted to stop and get after going home to change when work ended by the end of my day, which came after what could only be described as millennia passing by.

So I went home, driving as slowly as I could possibly do under my nervous circumstances, changed out of my work clothes and into a more casual outfit. I then got back into my car, drove to the grocery store and picked up the things I wanted. And then I got in my car, took a deep breath, turned on the radio and drove over to Edward's apartment with the directions he had sent me when we had been on the phone the few days before. As I drove I saw a cluster of clouds rolling in overhead and knew there would be a storm later.

Edward buzzed me into his building just as the first few drops of rain were hitting the ground. Mercifully I missed them all, and scurried into the building, food in hand. I walked up the few flights of stairs to his apartment. And as nervous as I had been driving over, as I climbed the steps that would lead me to him, I felt myself calm down the slightest bit. As much as Edward's very presence played holy havoc on my heart beat and my body reacted to him in ways I was not in control of, his presence, at least mentally, calmed me. I was soothed by his voice, even when it caused my skin to hum when he said my name. So when I knocked on his door and he answered, taking the bag of food from me and kissing me briefly, I was still nervous, ready to jump out of my skin nervous, but the longer I stayed beside him, the longer his cinnamon and soap smell lingered around me, the more chances I had to put my hand on his arm or feel his on the small of my back, I was able to breathe deeper.

I stepped into his apartment and admired it. It was converted from an old mill, so the windows were all ceiling to floor, with exposed beams and beautiful hardwood floors. It was sparsely, but not badly, decorated with a few black and white photos, enlarged and framed. He had what appeared to be a very comfortable couch in front of a large flat screen television, and he led me into a state of the art kitchen.

"You will have to remind me to come back here and cook sometime soon," I told him with a smile.

"Feel free, I don't use the kitchen nearly often enough," he replied, exiting the kitchen and going into the living room. It took a moment, but I heard soft music begin to play shortly after he disappeared. A moment later he returned and I began unloading what I had brought with me.

"What have you brought me?" he asked with childlike curiosity.

"Well you said romantic dinner, so I brought chocolate covered strawberries, brie, fresh French bread, grapes, and cheesecake. I didn't know what you might want, and you said to keep it light so I just―"

My words were cut off when Edward's lips touched the bend of my neck as I had my back to him, pulling the food from its bag. I nearly screamed at the feel of his mouth touched my skin.

"It is perfect," he said quietly. I grumbled something like thank you as he went to fetch wine and I, after being given direction, placed all the food onto a tray to be taken into the other room. I heard Edward singing softly to the music as I walked into the living room carrying our dinner. He had seated himself on the couch and was pouring two glasses of wine carefully on the coffee table, making room for me as I came round the couch to sit with him.

We ate for a while, and talked about nothing important. The rain continued to fall steadily, getting harder as time went on. As it grew darker Edward stealthily turned down his lights—in a charming boyfriend way, not a setting the mood way—and lit a few candles as I began to gradually hear the distant rumbles of thunder somewhere miles away.

And like the thunderstorms of my childhood, I started to feel this indescribable closeness in the air. It seemed that the air had thickened and the whole world was close and quiet except for the rain and the distant thunder. I couldn't hear the cars driving down on the street, the neighbors in the apartment next door or even the music Edward had put on. My own breathing was even silenced by the approaching storm, and somewhere in my stomach a feeling of restlessness began to grow. There was a spark inside me and I could feel it begin to ignite and burn as I felt everything get tighter, closer, the tension close in around us even further. I could feel it build, what had been building over the weeks that we spent together since he first kissed me. I felt it pull us together like centrifugal force. I didn't care if I was scared, or if I was nervous, or if we were supposed to be taking it slow. None of that mattered.

"Bella?"

Edward said my name and it sent an electric thrill all down my spine and sent my skin aflame with a strange fire. I was suddenly aware of our minute points of contact, the way our knees were touching as our bodies were turned slightly toward the other, his fingertips were on my hand when he said my name.

I turned to look at him and I almost wished I hadn't. His eyes seemed to have darkened from their normal emerald color to a forest green, no less intense but deeper, and they seemed alight with energy. It was the same energy I could feel pumping through my veins right then, the electricity, the shock that was running through me. There was something in his face then, a hunger I knew had nothing to do with food.

It excited me. It made another shock spread through me, all the way to my toes. I felt restless, but more importantly, I felt reckless. I felt like doing something crazy. I wanted to crawl out of my skin and scream and dance and _live_. I wanted to feel. I wanted Edward.

He made the move before I could and took my face in his hands, kissing my lips softly at first, pressing his lips gently across mine once or twice before pulling away and looking in my eyes. There was a question there, one I didn't need him to ask out loud. I knew that what he was about to do was going to be far more intimate and intense than anything else we ever had, no matter how I had felt about those previous kisses and caresses. I didn't say anything. I nodded slightly and moved a little closer.

He got the message.

His lips crashed once more again mine, like a tide on the shore, desperate to find purchase, only to slip away and come back again over and over. Each time his lips met mine, it sent another thrill into me, made the restless reckless spark in my stomach expand and catch fire until I honestly couldn't take it anymore. I parted my lips, tasted his mouth as he wrapped his fingers in my hair. Even behind my closed eyes I could see the flash of the lightening that accompanied the moment when he pulled me into his lap, needing to feel every inch of me against him as I needed him.

His arms wrapped around my back as the thunder crashed in answer to the lightning. I could barely breathe as his mouth traveled down my cheek and then to my neck, eliciting tiny squeaks from me. I was far too out of breath to moan. Every breath was a gasp for air. Every time he shifted the friction of his skin on mine or his clothes brushing me was like static electricity. It made me jump and writhe and brought me even further from sanity.

We kissed for what seemed like an eternity, the thunder and lightning getting ever closer each time his lips touched mine. It wasn't enough. I needed his skin on skin. I needed to be closer to him than I was right now, and the only way to do that was to get rid of the cloth barriers.

Somehow he seemed to realize exactly what I was thinking and suddenly his shirt was on the floor behind me. His skin was burning hot, like he had been in the sun all day long and my fingers passed over it hungrily as thunder crashed louder outside his windows, the lightning flashing brightly, illuminating his entire apartment. But I wasn't looking at his apartment, I was looking at Edward. I couldn't decide if I wanted to look at his chest and stomach, beautiful and smooth skinned, or his face, eyes full of hunger and energy each time the light flashed.

"Bella?" he asked in a panted whisper, his lips finding a place on my neck, pushing the sleeve of my shirt aside to touch them to my shoulder as my fingers tangled and untangled in his hair. I made some sort of noise of acknowledgement. He pulled away and looked in my eyes again.

"I don't want to take it slow anymore."

The air seemed to crackle around us as my fingers continued tracing over his skin and my lips found his again. But it still wasn't enough. It would never be enough. Even as Edward sensed that and stood us up, placing me on my feet, taking my hand and leading me toward his bedroom, stopping to push me against the wall on the way there and kiss me until I couldn't breathe, even as the rest of his clothes disappeared and shortly after so did mine and he told me how beautiful I was, even as he asked me, silently with his eyes again if I was sure and I told him yes with mine, as we practically devoured each other, kissing and touching and pushing and pulling the other's body without words as the world exploded in thundering booms and flashes of light around us, like fireworks to match the ones going off somewhere in my body, it wasn't enough.

We weren't careful with each other, but there was no need to be. This was passion, obsession, hunger, lust, need, affection, all manifested in a physical state. He seemed to know every inch of my body and I made myself familiar with every inch of his, but even as I was touching him, kissing him, moving in tandem with him, I was only thinking that it wasn't _enough_. It would never be enough. It couldn't be when it felt so natural to move my body against his or in rhythm with his, when kissing him felt this good, when being wrapped in his arms with his mouth on my bare skin felt so perfect. I felt like there was something ripped away from me when he wasn't touching me, when his body wasn't pressed desperately against mine, and it seemed like he felt the same way about me as he gripped my body against his, pressed me close, and wouldn't let go. I was sure I was going to have bruises from where his hands had been but I didn't care a bit, I cared only that he was close to me, as close as I could physically be with him, and he was keeping me there with an iron hold.

And I did have bruises the next day, and bite marks and hickeys; so did Edward for that matter. But no matter how sore I was or what marks I had on me I was still in his arms, pressed against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart as it pumped steadily below my ear. I looked up at his sleeping face and he looked so at peace, eyelids fluttering in some sort of dream, lips parted gently. His hair was more of a tousled mess than it usually was, if that was possible, which may or may not have had to do with my pulling on it. I chuckled a little to myself, which inadvertently jostled Edward. I could _feel_ him wake up, his heart pick up, his breathing hitch and his body squirm. He jostled a little and his face grew uncomfortable for a single moment before smoothing back out, his eyes opening slowly. He looked immediately down at me and a smile spread over his lips. I smiled back tiredly. I ached, in a very good way.

"Good morning," he said, his voice thick with sleep. I muttered something similar back. He looked at me and his smile gradually faded until he was just looking at me, not with a solemn face, just looking. I looked right back until he stopped staring at me so intently, closed his eyes again and hugged me close to him again.

"I could do this every morning," he said quietly.

"Agreed," I answered, closing my own eyes and drifting back into a semiconscious state with him, wrapped up in his arms, his smell and warmth and strength all around me. When I woke up for the second time, it was to Edward gently saying my name. My eyes cracked open to see Edward sitting on the edge of the bed, completely dressed. I felt my brow furrow in annoyance and confusion but said nothing, just looked at him with questions in my eyes.

"I have a shift this morning, at the hospital. It is only until three. I will come right back here after and…if you were still here I would love to see you. What I am saying is that if you want to stay while I am at work, you can."

"Sure, thanks," I mumbled with tired satisfaction coating my voice. He smiled.

"If you wish to take a shower there are clean towels on the bathroom and an extra toothbrush in the medicine cabinet. You are welcome to anything you like while I am gone. I promise I will come back as soon as I can," he assured me. I nodded. He leaned down and touched his lips to mine softly at first, and then shocked me with intensity, forcing images and feelings from the night before through my entire body until he pulled away.

"If you continue to kiss me like that I will never make it to work," he scolded.

"A little delinquency is a good thing every now and then," I said, speaking for the first time since waking up this time. He laughed a little.

"We can play hooky another day, my love. Today I have work. I will come back to you," he said again, a solemn vow. I smiled and told him to have a good day at work.

I almost followed it up with something else but bit my tongue.

I didn't know if it was the right time to tell him that I had fallen in love with him.

**le gasp!**


	5. Confessions and Baseball

I stayed in bed after Edward left for a while, not wanting to move from the place I had spent the night in his arms. After a while I did as Edward had mentioned and got up, meandering to his bathroom so I could shower and get back into my clothes. They weren't that dirty, I had only worn them for a little while.

I went into his kitchen and started picking at the food in his refrigerator. I didn't know what to do with myself. It had taken until this morning, watching him go to realize I was in love with him, and as soon as I realized that, I was both ecstatic and terrified. I had never _really_ fallen in love with anyone. How could I tell him I loved him? What if he didn't love me back? What if he _did_?

I did the only thing I could think of.

I called Alice.

She picked up on the third ring, in her cheery soprano.

"Alice," I began. She didn't even let me get through a sentence.

"You had sex!" she exclaimed.

"What? How did you know that?"

"Please, how long have I known you? Tell me everything! Is he good looking naked? Is he good in bed? How long―"

"Alice! Some things are meant to be a secret," I interrupted. She laughed on the other side of the line.

"Fine, private Bella, I'll leave you alone. But if you aren't calling to talk details, what do you need?"

I took a deep breath.

"I'm in love with him. This morning, I woke up with him, I kissed him goodbye when he went to work and all I could think of was how much I wanted to that same thing every day. I don't know how it happened, but it happened. I'm in love with him. What am I going to do?"

"Bella," Alice said, and I could hear the knowing smile in her voice. "You are going to tell him, Bella."

"How can I do that? How do I tell him? 'Hi, Edward, how was work? Did you have a nice shift? I'm in love with you. What would you like for dinner?'"

She laughed her wise Alice laugh, the one she did when I was asking a question that she found it ridiculous to not know the answer to.

"Bella, darling, dearest best friend, it isn't about _how_ you say it, just that you say it. He won't care if you say it right when he walks in the door, or while you're making dinner, or before you go to sleep. He won't care if you whisper it, sing it or scream it. Just tell him."

"But Alice―"

"This isn't coming from Cosmo, or any relationship column I read, or the advice of my late therapist, rest her soul. This is coming from me, Alice, a woman who loves a man. Tell him."

I sighed. I trusted Alice with my life, and she had never been wrong about anything before. If I asked her advice, whatever she told me was always the right answer, even if it didn't appear to be right away. The worst that could happen, I reasoned, was that he would tell me he didn't feel the same, and that would effectively destroy our relationship as I would be too humiliated to ever face him again.

I sighed again. No need to be over dramatic.

"Do you think that he―"

"Yes."

"How can you know?" I asked, not even sure myself, and I spent quite a bit of time with him.

"Bella, you've been dating the man for five months and hadn't slept together last night, so he clearly respects you. He trusts you enough to leave you in his apartment when he isn't there for a long span of time. He brings you flowers, takes you out, and spends as much of his free time with you as he possibly can. If he _didn't_ love you, I'd be sure he was a serial killer planning to murder you."

"Don't say that," I replied. "With my luck, he _is_ a serial killer planning to murder me."

"Hush. I'm going to get off the phone now, because all you are going to do is talk this to death. I'll say it again. You love him, he loves you, and he probably is just as worried about how to say it as you are. Tell him. Tell him as soon as you can."

I muttered acquiescence and she hung up on me with an expression of good luck.

I put down my cell phone on the kitchen counter, biting my lip.

I should tell him. I would tell him. I would tell him tonight.

* * *

I spent the rest of the morning and the afternoon inspecting Edward's apartment. I didn't go so far as to snoop through his things as I was sure Alice would have told me to do, but I did look at all of his movies, which ranged from action movies and westerns to chick flicks and silent films. I looked at the books on his shelves, which spanned from classics to books on Oprah's book club list.

But I was most impressed with his music collection. He had records and the corresponding turn table to play them on, original recordings of various albums, which he then had in duplicate in the section of CD's. They were organized by genre, and within the genre they were organized alphabetically. I glanced at the titles, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Aretha Franklin, Led Zeppelin, The Shins, Damien Rice, The Three Tenors, Debussy—it just kept going. I found where he put in discs in the sound system and opened it, inspecting the CD's within. Bob Marley's epic album Legend, a few mixes without titles and last but not least a Joni Mitchell album. I made a note to ask about it later.

When I was done inspecting, I couldn't think of anything else to do, so I tidied the kitchen and the living room, which we had managed to dishevel, though I didn't remember doing it. I smiled when I thought about it—I had been busy at that time and unable to notice anything other than Edward. I was still grinning ear to ear when Edward returned.

I heard him come in as I was flipping through the channels on his television, trying to give myself something to do while waiting for him to get back. When I heard the key in the door I didn't let myself get too excited, thinking perhaps it was someone from the next apartment coming home. But when the door opened and I felt my whole frame vibrate.

"Bella?" Edward called out with uncertainty. I hadn't told him for sure that I was going to stay. But it was my day off, I had nothing else to do and the idea of being somewhere Edward was, somewhere he would return to had made my stomach do strange back flips. I got up so fast from the couch that I fell with the lack of grace I possessed. I hit the ground and immediately heard his laughter coming from the front hall and then into the living room.

"Bella, lovely, I'm happy to see you too, but please don't injure yourself," he said, rounding the couch. I picked myself off and dusted off my jeans and smiled at him. I didn't get a chance to say a word before he had his arms around my waist and his mouth on mine. He kissed me thoroughly and then pulled me in against his chest, his face nuzzled into my neck.

"I'm so glad you stayed," he admitted. I smiled wider. He leaned back and looked at my face with a smile that matched mine, accenting his gorgeous features, the unfairly perfect curve of his mouth, the way his eyes lit up beautifully when he was happy, the little smile crinkles around his mouth. Just seeing his smile made me feel at peace.

"Did you eat lunch?" I asked him. I myself had picked continuously at the leftovers in his refrigerator—and then thrown out the things that were clearly no longer any good. When he shook his head at me I sent him a disapproving look.

"What is that look for?" he asked. I rolled my eyes and extricated myself from his hold and heading toward the kitchen. There weren't many things I could claim to be very good at, but cooking was certainly one of them.

"You know what that look is for. You never eat lunch when you're at work. You've told me a thousand times that you skip meals on your shifts at the hospital, so I'm making you something to eat."

"Bella, you absolutely do not have to make me lunch. I'm a grown man; I am more than capable of making something for myself."

"I am well aware of your gender and stage of maturity, Edward. I want to make you lunch. So please let me."

He looked at me for a moment, and then nodded with a slight smile. I shuffled into the kitchen as he told me about his shift, deciding to make admittedly a more than extravagant meal. He had everything I would need to make an Alfredo sauce from scratch and a good box of fettuccini pasta. He sat down a half an hour later to fettuccini Alfredo, garlic bread and a glass of wine.

"This is rather decadent for barely four in the afternoon, you know. Not to mention that I think it's been years since I had a drink before dinner time."

"Do you have anywhere to be tonight?" I inquired. He shook his head. "Then drink your wine and don't worry so much."

I ate a little with him, drank a glass of wine and continued our conversation that had begun while I was cooking. We had a conversation that lasted far longer than originally planned, and our wine glasses were refilled several times throughout it. When he was done talking about the hospital and asking me about cooking, I asked him about his music.

"When I was little, my father used to play piano and my mother used to sing to me. I learned to love music at a very young age. I learned to play piano, guitar, percussion and even compose music through my childhood and high school years. Music is a beautiful connecting force in the world. It makes me happy."

"Even Joni Mitchell?" I asked with a laugh. He chuckled and took another sip of his wine.

"My mother's favorite singer was Joni Mitchell. She would play her records when she was teaching me how to cook, when she drove her car, or when she was cleaning the house. When I went to college, she kept telling me that she didn't want me to forget about home, so when I arrived there and started unpacking, I found a brand new Joni Mitchell album in with my things. My roommate gave me hell about it of course, but I would love to play it. It made me think of home. Now she is just one of my many favorites."

"Mystery solved," I announced.

"Have any mysteries of your own you want to solve for me?" he inquired, finishing his wine.

_Tell him_.

"Well actually, I wanted to―"

Before my sentence was finished there was a knock at the door, loud enough to startle me. He held his hand up with an apologetic look, and then went to the door. As soon as the door opened, I heard a voice I recognized.

"Edward, are you ready for this game? It is going to be _sick_ my friend, completely disgusting."

"Emmett?"

I went into the hallway in complete disbelief. But there he was, the whole hulking mass of him, a six pack of Sam Adams under his arm standing in the doorway. I swore he almost dropped his beer when he saw me.

"You are _kidding me_," he blurted out. He turned to Edward in shock, then back at me, then back to Edward. He looked like a child who was torn between two things it couldn't decide between. It was almost comical.

"Dude, this is your Isabella? My Bella, the girl I've told you about for _years_ is your Isabella?"

"Your Bella?" Edward asked skeptically.

"You've been telling him about me for years?" I inquired with raised eyebrows.

"First of all, yeah, Edward, she was my Bella a long time ago, like six years ago when she started working at the paper. I knew her back when she was just a poor little college graduate trying to pay her student loans and still eat. And I have been telling idiot boy about you for years, not like I was trying to sell him on you, just mentioned you to him. If there was a story about you, you know, about your endless clumsiness or drinking escapades, sure I've told him about you. Tried to set you two up on a date once, but neither of you were interested, if I remember correctly," he said, with the kind of defensiveness and attitude only Emmett could pull off without annoying me or seeming over dramatic. And when I thought about what he had said, I did actually remember what he was talking about. Three years before, after a ridiculously messy break up with Jake which I tried not to think about too often, he had told me I should get over it by going on a date with his friend Edward. I had declined emphatically, telling I could not even think of dating someone new.

Edward seemed to remember something similar, because we turned to each other with an identical look of embarrassment.

"Look, if I am interrupting I can go home. Rose will watch the game with me," he offered. Edward's eyes met mine. I smiled at him and shrugged.

"Not at all, Emmett," Edward said, "as long as you don't mind Bella being here, you are welcome to bring that beer inside and watch your team lose horribly."

Edward, as it turned out, when put in front of a television with a beer in him and Emmett egging him on turned into a shameless sports fan. Edward was a diehard New York Yankees fan, and Emmett, of course, was part of what he referred to as the Red Sox Nation. The television of course was showing a Red Sox vs. Yankees game. The two of them, between shouting at the players on the field and making fun of each other when the opposing team made a stupid mistake, resembled college boys at a sports bar. It was yet another facet of Edward I hadn't seen before.

I had to hand it to him; he never did stop surprising me.

And Emmett, for his part, did not disappoint in the least. Between belligerent and profanity filled interjections and arguments about bad calls the umpire made, I found myself paying more attention to him than the game. And when Edward's team lost, Emmett's gloating was almost as amusing as Edward's sullen pouting.

"So," Emmett said with a grin, finishing off his last beer, "how does it feel to be defeated in what looks like one of the greatest come back games in history?"

"Save it," Edward said. I laughed. If I had known his baseball team losing would make him so grumpy I would have baked him something to take the edge off. They talked over the game, rehashed moments, argued over calls that were made as they finished their beer and Edward gathered the bottles up for recycling.

"So, you up for game one of the World Series at Rose and my place?" Emmett asked when their post game play-by-play was done.

"It's tradition, Emmett, of course I'll come," Edward answered from the kitchen. The beer bottles clinked together as he tossed them into the recycling bag.

"So Bella," Emmett said quietly while Edward was still in the kitchen, "have you and Edward, you know, done the deed?"

I must have blanched because even though I whispered emphatically that it was none of his business, he just laughed and winked at me. I wanted to be angry with him that he was so crass, but it was impossible. Emmett was one of the most loveable people I'd ever met. Even when he infuriated me, he was still such a good man my anger only ever lasted a few minutes.

When Edward returned to the room he saw Emmett's amused look and my flustered expression and his eyes piqued with curiosity.

"What?" he asked with annoyance. He knew something had transpired in the few moments he had been absent.

"Ask Emmett!" I exclaimed. Edward looked at Emmett who busted into fresh peals of laughter. Edward with his measure of decorum did not bother to ask.

After a few more minutes Emmett and Edward said their goodbyes. I told Emmett I would see him the next day at work. When he stepped out the door Edward looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"So, you know Emmett," he commented with interest. I nodded.

"We've known each other since I started working at the paper, right after I got out of college."

"He has told me some interesting stories about you."

"I shudder to think what he has told you," I admitted. Emmett had been privy to some of the most embarrassing moments in my life, the tequila table dancing incident being one of the least of them.

"My personal favorite was the story about you and the starting line of the Celtics," he informed me with a grin.

I had been given an assignment to interview the starters for the Boston Celtics after one of their big wins the year before, and was admittedly a little nervous. Thanks to my nerves and eternal gracelessness, I managed to trip over something as I walked into the room with them, sprain my ankle, break my tape recorder and spill my coffee all over Kevin Garnett. Because I had told Emmett he could sit in on the interview and meet the players he had been there to witness the entirety of the incident.

"I'm going to flay him," I muttered. Edward laughed.

"That's a little extreme don't you think?"

"Not in the least—if he told you about the Celtics I can only imagine the other stories you know about. Now you have all these embarrassing stories about me, and I have nothing about you."

"Once, when I was a medical student I fell asleep studying for an exam. I woke up the next day, ran to my classroom and ended up in the wrong building, in the wrong classroom standing in front of a first year seminar class of about four hundred students without any pants on."

"You can't be serious," I choked out.

"I am completely serious. The worst of it was that I had that professor later that day for a class. He of course shared the story with the entire class. It wasn't my finest moment," he said. When I had finished laughing I told him we were even for the moment.

"Listen, Bella, I know you have work tomorrow morning, but I would really like it if you stayed over again tonight," he murmured. He was charmingly modest about intimacy even though in the moment I knew modesty had no place with us.

"Of course I'd like to stay," I told him. He leaned toward me and touched his mouth to mine. I pressed into him with a smile and when he pulled away he stayed close to me, his eyes shining with a smile.

_Tell him_.

"Edward," I started. "Edward…I…"

My voice froze in my throat.

"I know," he told me quietly.

"You know?" I asked, trying not to pull away in surprise. He nodded slowly, smiling slightly.

"Do _you_ know that I…that I…"

"I do now."

He kissed me instead of saying anything.

"We are both very bad at this," I announced. He chuckled a little.

"I told you, I haven't done very much dating, this is all…very new territory for me."

"Me too," I confessed.

"I'm not very good at saying the words. I don't know how to tell you how much I care about you, how much I…even though I feel it, I don't know if I'm ready to say it. So let me show you."

"Okay."

He smiled, cupped my face in his hands and brought my mouth to his again.

I stayed at his apartment again that night, feeling sufficiently adored. Edward had a six o'clock shift at the hospital and I had to be in to work by eight, so it happened again that as he was leaving, I was getting up. He didn't say anything, just kissed me goodbye with a smile and left to go to work.

I got out of bed and collected my things so I could go back to my apartment briefly to get ready for work and then head out. When I was walking out, looking for my shoes I saw them sitting by the front door with a note on top of them. I sat on the floor and put them on as I read the note.

_Have a good day at work. I will call you tonight._

_I love you._


End file.
